In War and Love
by LilithFalling
Summary: Ten years have gone by, and Sparrow has brought Bloodstone into prosperity. When the Pirate King attacks her home, she defends her people and takes him prisoner. Foolish enough to show mercy, she learns when you let your guard down with the Thief, he will steal what you treasure most. Dark Reaver
1. Mayor Captain Hero

Disclaimer: For those of you don't know, I do not own anything originally from Fable or Fable 2, or Fable 3 either.

Author's Message: This is my first Fable fanfic, and I know this chapter is kinda short. I promise, things WILL pick up the pace. This is really just a prologue to set up the rest. I absolutely adore Reaver so this is my tribute to him and Sparrow. Please read and review, love it or hate it I value constructive criticism since I am always striving to improve my writing. And enjoy.

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Chapter One

Mayor. Captain. Hero.

* * *

The coastal township of Bloodstone had always been a place of opportunity. For centuries it had been filled to the brim with wayward souls, each one of them filled with a burning ambition and tagged with a price, and as such it was a town easily swayed by anyone with enough money and power. And so, when an unknown young cavalier passed through their town and murdered the most fierce-some pirate ever to sail the nine seas in his own private study, the town as a whole bowed down before his might, and thus began the reign of a new Pirate King, who was henceforth known only as 'Reaver'.

No one knew if such be his true name, though rumor abounded that he had stolen it from the first man he'd shot down in cold blood, but true name or no, it was a name that had struck fear into the heart of every mortal with even a lick of sense, and so all residents of Bloodstone had served him as any subject would serve their King... unquestioningly and unthinkingly. Those who did not... well, their story ended with a pool of blood that spread like an offering at the Pirate King's feet.

This man, this enigma, was a bloodthirsty deviant of the worst kind, and his fit the image of Bloodstone well. He appeared to have limitless wealth, and gorged himself on the finest foods, wines, and pleasurable company for more than a hundred years, all the while showing no signs of age or sickness. Even death itself feared the Pirate King's unmatched Skill, or so it seemed to the people of Bloodstone, and after a time they revered him as more than a king; he had, in essence, become their god. He granted them the freedoms and liberties the rest of the civilized world forbade them, and all one was required to do was avoid his displeasure at all costs, for he would gun down any man or woman as soon as look at them. The people felt this a fair price to pay in return for being able to live however they pleased, and all thought this chaotic and pleasurable way of life would continue on indefinitely.

Then, after two centuries of rule, without any warning, a great army had laid siege to the town of Bloodstone; the people had cried out for their King to save them, to drive away the horde of brigands more vicious and bloodthirsty then any of their own, but their King had fled, leaving his people to their fate and disappearing without a trace.

And so for three years the people of Bloodstone knew no leadership; it had been left lost and adrift, and the people assumed their King had forsaken his coastal paradise in search of more exotic and uninhibited pastures. For three years the town was little more than anarchic cesspool. True, it had always been such, but these days it seemed the harbor at the foot of the town was constantly crowded with bloated bodies that bobbed up and down in the water, and more poured in each day. Men and women... the young and the old... wealthy pirates and filthy beggars... No one knew a modicum of safety any longer. Gangs formed, each fighting for the right to rule over the town, as well as repelling the more frequent attacks coming in from Wraithmarsh, as the eerie fen tried to expand itself into the town. They carnage was unspeakable; wraiths slipped in through the night and attacked those foolish enough to wander out alone, while gangs fought against each other, and amongst themselves, until the very trade the town thrived on for survival came to a halt, and those who had once been prideful and free-roaming pirates became little more than starving thugs. Only the largest and most powerful gangs could rule, but without Pirate King to keep a semblance of control and order, the violence in the streets reached an all time high as gangs and wraiths clashed together in the streets almost nightly, until the cobbled roads were painted red with the blood of those too weak or too unlucky to survive.

And then, on one fateful and crisp dawn, after three years of relentless brutality and violence, a Hero appeared at the edge of Wraithmarsh and strode bravely into their town. She wore a long dirtied cloak with a hood that obscured her face, but she was fearless and confident as she marched through the winding streets, taking the path leading up toward the manor house on the hill, almost as though she did not know of the danger she faced walking through the streets, completely exposed and alone. Perhaps those who saw her were too stunned to respond properly, but no one made a move to attack her. Instead, one by one, they began to follow her.

Who was this woman who dared barge into their town as though she owned the place? Who would be so foolish as to brave the dangers of Wraithmarsh, when, at the end of their journey, they would find nothing more than certain death at the hands of Bloodstone thugs?

Like tiny streams joining into a larger river, men and women trickled from their run down homes, prostitutes left their brothels, and burly thugs armed with swords and pistols emerged from their dens to followed the woman, who neither glanced back at them or gave any indication that she knew they were there.

Then, at the top of the hill, standing the foot of the steps of the white and surprisingly untouched manor, she finally turned around and threw back her hood. Her face was youthful, surprisingly so, but held an edge of competency that only the wisdom of age could bring.

"Well, well," she said. Her voice was not loud nor rough, but soft and feminine while carrying the unmistakable hint of authority. "I wasn't expecting the welcoming committee. You have surpassed my expectations."

"And just who are you?" barked a tall, brutish looking man who stood at the very front of their gathering, cracking his scabbed and bloody knuckles.

The woman did not appear the least bit intimidated. Indeed, her cupid's bow lips curved into a beguiling smile as her emerald eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. "I see you do not remember me. I'm hurt," she added sardonically.

"And who the bleedin' hell are you?" asked another.

Her smile grew wider. "I am Sparrow, the Hero of Bowerstone. I was here some three years ago, the same time your Pirate King disappeared. And seeing as you've asked, I should also inform you that I am now the bleedin' mayor of this-" she looked around mockingly "-fine little town."

A stunned silence met, her pronouncement, at least until the man could find his voice again.

"Mayor, huh?" he growled. "We don't need no stinking _mayor_. I'm the leader 'round here, so why don't you just mosey on back where you came from, before I ugly up that pretty face of yours."

The woman who called herself Sparrow looked at him serenely. "I must say, I had a good look around on my way up to my new manor, and if any town needs a mayor... I mean, just look at yourselves."

"What's that s'possed to mean?"

"It means this town has become little more than a gutter where degenerates such as yourself can squander away what life and talent has been given to you," she said simply. "Rest assured, I take no pleasure in being here, but I was asked personally by the Mayor of Westcliff to rebuild this town."

The thug sneered viciously. "I don't give a rat's steaming shit if Reaver himself sent yeh. I'll tear your pretty little head off your shoulders before I go takin' orders from some posh little wench who's probably never even killed a man." A burst of rowdy cheers met his proclamation, but the woman did not seem the least bit bothered.

Sparrow waited patiently for the cheers to quiet down, but then asked quietly, "Is that so?"

"It is."

Sparrow only sighed in response, then removed the heavy traveling cloak from about her shoulders and dropped it where she stood, revealing a ragged linen shirt stained in several places with what looked like dried blood and a pair of skin-tight leather breeches. On one hip rested a thin sword, and on the other was holstered a sleek pistol. Resting her thumb lightly on the hammer and her finger on the trigger, she looked the man dead in the eye with a look of determination so fierce the whole crowd fell silent again.

"We can start whenever you wish," was her simple challenge, "but before we do, I ask you, aren't you tired of all... _this_?" The crowd fell silent, including the thug who seemed their unofficial leader. "Listen to me, all of you. How many years have the people of this town been fighting over the remnants of the Pirate King's rule? Bloodstone was once a town of wealth and freedom, run by proud and merciless pirates that were feared from Westcliff to Oakfield. Now look at this place. It's little more than rat-infested hole dedicated to squalor and misery. Is this really how the lot of you want to live your lives until someone shoots you dead and adds your corpse to the lot floating in the harbor?"

More silence followed her words, and Sparrow glanced meaningfully from face to face, seeing the sudden drop in morale as her words sank in.

"I've come here to take on the mantle of leadership," she went on. "I've come to pick up the jagged pieces of Bloodstone that the Pirate King to callously left behind. Don't you want more than this? I can give you more than just the life you used to have. I can give you much, much more. It is a monumental task, I won't lie, but it is one I cannot take on alone. I need you, Bloodstone," she said, addressing the crowd at large. "And you need me. I can lead you, but I am not this town. You are. Only you can rebuild what has been lost. The gangs will not save you, the Pirate King will not return for you. I alone care about your future. I alone believe Bloodstone can still be saved. But you need to believe it too. If any of you, like this thug you see before me, believe violence and death is the only way to move forward, then please, I welcome you to challenge me. Prove yourself worthy to lead this town in my stead."

Smiling cruelly, the thug instantly went for his own pistol, but before he could so much as remove it from its holster, a gunshot sounded through the entire town, followed immediately by a hair-raising shriek. The thug found himself on his knees, clutching his right hand, which was bloodied and, on closer inspection, now had a small, round hole sliced cleanly through the center.

"Y-you bitch!" he growled in agony, and he grappled for his weapon with his other hand, but again the woman called Sparrow fired her pistol, and this time a small appendage flew from the man's other hand and skittered across the cobblestones. The crowd drew back as a whole when they saw it was the man's thumb.

"Ghaaaaah!" the man roared loudly, jumping to his feet and charging straight for the woman. Sparrow did not move, did not flinch away, and when the man was only a few feet from her, she issued a final shot, and the man lay dead at her feet, his blood pooling around her boots.

The town was deathly silent. No one seemed to move, or even breathe. All those who had witnessed the fall of the most brutal gang leader in Bloodstone stared in utter shock at the woman before them, her stature so great, her expression so fierce, and her eyes burning into each of them, for a brief moment, it was as though they were looking into the face of the Pirate King once more.

"Would anyone else like to issue their challenge?" Sparrow said at last.

Silence.

Satisfied, Sparrow holstered her pistol. "Return to your homes, your brothels, your dens, and inform everyone you pass that law has come to Bloodstone. At dawn tomorrow, I will call a meeting in this very place. I invite all residents of Bloodstone to attend, and together, we will see what can be done about returning Bloodstone to her glory."

Wordlessly, the crowd dispersed, still in shock over the sudden and brutal shift in power, and Sparrow turned from them without further thought, taking the key from around her neck and unlocking the door that led her into Reaver's Manor.

_Or rather_, my_ manor now_, she thought suddenly.

The heavy door flew open, revealing a dank, dark, musty sitting room. Sparrow stepped inside and closed the door behind her, igniting a handful of flames in her palm and looking around. The manor house had the distinct air of neglect. She doubted anyone had even set foot inside it since Reaver had abandoned it.

_Reaver_...

Swallowing hard, Sparrow approached the heavy oaken door across the entrance, almost as though compelled to do so, and with one steady hand, forced open the door where she had first encountered the Pirate King. The room was dark as a crypt. Sparrow cautiously made her way around the room, lighting whatever candle-lamps she could find, ending at the desk that dominated the eastern side of the room. Its surface was coated with a clear inch of dust, but through that, Sparrow could just make out a faded yellowed envelope. Lifting it, she blew off the filth and inspected it closely.

It was addressed to no one; knowing Reaver, it could be something really nasty, but unable to quell her curiosity, she slit the red-wax seal and flipped it open, finding only a yellowed piece of parchment, folded neatly in half and written upon with an elegant script. Holding it to the light, she read the words the Pirate King had left behind years ago.

_If you are reading this, you have usurped my home. Well done. May suppurating pustules plague every delicate part of your anatomy. Be you stranger or acquaintance, friend or foe, you can enjoy the anecdotal tales I have recorded upon magical paper and left scattered in objects around the house. Until I return to kill you and take back what is rightfully mine. Vindictively yours,_

_ Reaver_

Chuckling to herself, Sparrow folded the letter and tucked it back in its envelope. Typical Reaver. Well, if he ever did return, he would be in the shock of a lifetime. Instead of finding his town in the hands of some mortal whom he could easily do away with, he would find _her_, and she wasn't going anywhere.

But for now... well, for now, there was much to be done. Bloodstone was hers, and by Avo and the Light, she would see it prosper.

* * *

The change had begun gradually, over the first few months, but picked up speed as the years progressed, until the town of Bloodstone was hardly recognizable. One by one, pirates and thugs alike found themselves trading in their guns and swords for hammers and axes. Beggars left the streets and whores left the brothels and began working in the rebuilt shops, selling jewelry, furniture, and clothing, or styling hair. Buildings were painted and furnished, streets were repaired and cleaned. Before long ships began sailing into the newly cleaned and rebuilt harbor, bringing their supplies and wealth with them, and so Bloodstone became the new trading port between Westcliff and the rest of Albion. Finally, after seven long years, the unkempt air of the town was little more than a distant memory, and the newly rebuilt town bragged of a wealth that surpassed even Bowerstone's. Citizens faithfully paid their rent and taxes to the Mayor, and she in turn protected them from the horrors of Wraithmarsh and the pirates from the sea. It was a rare day a Banshee or a brigand trespassed on her territory.

After more than two centuries of lawlessness and filth, Bloodstone had redeemed itself. Each day merchants, artisans, and craftsmen plied their trade, and each night they would gather at the taverns to relax and enjoy a good time. The children were received a good education at the school house, were properly clothed and cared for, and went to bed with full stomachs every night. Then, for a few hours before each new dawn, Bloodstone would lull into a peaceful slumber only to stretch its legs and begin the day again.

* * *

Sparrow stood at her elegant stone balcony, her hair being tossed around on the clean sea breeze as she looked on with pride as the sun reflected off the russet-tiled roofs of her town. Bloodstone had truly become a place she could call home. It was far away from all the memories and ghosts of her past. There was nothing here to haunt her, and for the first time, she felt as though she had truly accomplished something beyond her own selfish need for revenge. Smiling to herself in satisfaction, she returned to her manor, which she had remodeled in her efforts to remove all traces of Reaver's influence, and opened to wardrobe to prepare for a new day.

Thirty minutes later she walked down the stairs to her parlor, opening the front door where her naval Commander stood in full uniform, saluting smartly with just a hint of a smile about his weathered lips.

"On time as always, Mister Daniels," she greeted pleasantly. "Come inside and have yourself some coffee."

"Thank yeh, Capt'n," he said in his heavily accented brogue as he removed his hat; his long chocolate-brown locks were tied back and styled immaculately. He stepped inside and shut the door behind himself, then followed her to her study. His smile warmed as he took in his superior. Professional as always, she was dressed in her uniform, a fitted silk white shirt with a high frill around the neckline, a pale blue reefer jacket with shiny brass buttons, white form-fitting trousers, and shinny black boots that came up over her knees and lifted her eyes to his level with high, pointed heels that clicked as she walked. Her fire-red curls were pulled up into an impeccable knot atop the crown of her head, and held in place only by a pale blue ribbon.

As they entered her study, they were greeted by an elderly but spry woman he recognized as Mrs. Kumar. She had an air of competency and no-nonsense about her that Sparrow had come to depend on over the years. Her skin was a deep, dusky brown and her white-streaked black hair was pulled back into tight braid that reached her knees. She wore strange but colorful robes, today's being a mix of flaming-orange and red. She was setting a silver coffee tray on the large mahogany desk dominating the center of the room.

"Good morning Miss Sparrow, Mistair Daniels," she greeted with her peculiar accent. From what Daniels knew of her, she had come with her husband from Samarkand. At the time, Sparrow had been working day and night to restore law and order to Bloodstone and had nearly fallen ill from exhaustion. She had hired Mr. and Mrs. Kumar to take care of her and her home, and they had remained with her these past six years.

"Mrs. Kumar, good morning," Sparrow said with reserved warmth. "Is your husband well?"

"He is, Miss, though the foolish man rose with the dawn tu start on the vines on the east wall. He says thair getting undair the roof tiles again."

Sparrow shook her head. "I thought I told him to stay off the roof? He's too old to be climbing, and the fall could kill him."

Manya Kumar rolled her dark eyes. "Try telling that fool he's tu old, see whair that gets yu."

Sparrow smiled. "I'll talk with him again."

Mrs. Kumar bowed and made to leave the study. "I wish yu luck, Miss."

Alone with his Captain again, Daniels poured a cup of coffee for the both of them, adding her usual extra milk and sugar. He joined her, holding an ivory, porcelain cup that felt fragile in his large, weathered hands.

"So, how was the journey, Mister Daniels? Anything to report?" She was, of course, asking after her merchant ship, _The Rose._

"Nothin' out of the ordinary, Capt'n," he replied, and then smiled, "and how many times 'ave I asked yeh te call me Jack?"

She gave him a small smile. "You call me Captain. I call you Mister Daniels. It is the way things are."

He sighed, but offered her his full report. She listened attentively, even as she stood staring out the window over her gardens, appearing lost in thought. Daniels was not fooled; he had been with her for too long. His Captain never missed a detail. At the end of his report she merely nodded and took her seat, then refilled her coffee. "Thank you, Mister Daniels. It is a relief to know I can rely on your to take care of _The Rose_ when my duties here keep me landlocked."

He smiled. "Yeh can always rely on me, Capt'n. If yeh'll pardon me sayin' so, maybe yeh should get back out on the open sea. Yeh look like yeh could use it."

She lifted her gaze slowly to his, the full impact of her emerald-green eyes hitting him like a kick to the chest. She looked tired, weary even. But also determined. "In time. I still have business to settle here. It's always busy this time of year. Harvests and merchant ships all coming in at the same time. A monsoon hit last week and the dock needed repairing. A group of pirates got cocky. I personally took care of them."

Daniel's scowled. "Yeh wouldn't be worn down so if yeh didn't insist on takin' care of everything yerself."

Sparrow gave him a rare smile, a real one that seemed to light up her whole face. "If only I had a few more of you, then I wouldn't have to."

He hated it when she did that. With a smile and few flattering words she had his gut twisting into knots and completely diffused his growing and justified frustration, until he found himself smiling at her like an idiot. For her sake, he tried to keep his momentum. "Yeh work yerself to the bone fer this town. Yeh put so much in it yeh ain't got nothin' left for yerself."

Her expression suddenly grew serious. "I commit myself only as much as any resident of this town has themselves," she said quietly. "I could never face them if I did anything less. You should know that."

He lowered his eyes respectfully. "My apologies, Capt'n, I know its not me place. I am concerned for yeh. Me words come from honest intentions."

Sparrow sighed. "Bloodstone is my home. Its people are my family. What manner of woman would I be if I didn't put everything I have into taking care of them." He could say nothing more and he knew it. "Thank you for your report, Mister Daniels."

Understanding himself to be dismissed, he stood and saluted, exiting the study with a stiff back.

Sparrow watched him go and then immediately put him from her mind. Daniels had been her Commander since she had acquired _The Rose_ five years ago. Sometimes her work in town became so demanding she could not get out to sea for months, even a year or more. But this was her life now, one she had chosen and one she did well. She was at peace in her work. Bloodstone had placed itself with full trust into her hands; she would put everything she had into making it prosper and destroy anything that dared threaten it.


	2. Return of the King

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable, but what wouldn't I give to own Reaver?

Author's Memorandum: Thank you very much for my first few reviews. I'm taking a different tactic with this story that I haven't used before, so I fiddle with it a lot, and I need some kind of feed back. Please read, enjoy and review.

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Chapter Two

Return of the King

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Mist still hung heavily in the air, obscuring most of the coastline, but it mattered not to one born from the sea. The Pirate inhaled deeply, the tangy salt in the breeze clearing his lungs and his mind. Soon he would be home. It had been a long time. As diverting as Samarkand was, he had come to miss the sheer anarchy and licentiousness of Bloodstone. Come to that, should he not be able to smell the stale scent of booze and unwashed humanity even from here? He shrugged. No matter. He would be lost in cheap booze and even cheaper women soon enough.

As the minutes passed he wandered back to his cabin to find some clothes and a hot meal. _Perhaps I_'_ll host a party in my honor once I_'_m settled back in my manor_, he mused as he returned above deck. The ship was just entering the harbor while the sea mist slowly cleared, evaporating in the burn of the morning sun.

Reaver frowned. This wasn't Bloodstone. It couldn't be. It was too... _clean_. The polished houses, quaint shops, and foot-worn cobblestones along the boardwalk resembled nothing of his brawling, sprawling Bloodstone. What was the meaning of this?

Turning to his current first mate, who turned white as a sheet under the Pirate's sudden scrutiny, even through his darkly-bronzed skin, Reaver casually asked, "Heraldo, where have we made port?"

He gave his crew-mates a brief, apprehensive look before gulping and facing his Captain. "Bloodstone, Sir."

In a flash of powder and smoke, Heraldo dropped to his knees before collapsing to the deck, dark blood pooling around him. Reaver turned his pistol to the next nearest crew mate. He posed the same question.

"We're in Bloodstone, Sir, honest. E-even ask the dockworker there." He quailed for a second under Reaver's gaze before his superior nodded and holstered his weapon. Leaning over the guardrail, he hailed a young lad dressed in peasant's clothing, carrying a coil of rope over one shoulder.

"You there, lad, where have we made port?"

"This here is the fine town of Bloodstone, Sir," the boy answered brightly.

Reaver frowned. What the devil was going on here? Who had done this to his beloved Bloodstone? He intended to get some answers. "I take it there is someone in charge here?" he queried. The lad nodded. Good enough for the Pirate. Turning to his men he barked, "Secure these docks. Line up everyone here on the boardwalk. I need to send a message to whomever thinks to claim my Bloodstone."

* * *

Sparrow left the _Children of Avo_ with a sigh of contentment. This building had once housed the most popular brothel in town, but had long ago been converted into an orphanage. Sparrow had funded the project herself, and continued to do so, having decided long ago that she wanted no orphan to know a moment's hunger or starvation the way she and her sister had as children. Grinning to herself, she resumed her patrol, waving to those residents who were currently out and about on their daily routine, and was halfway to the docks when a young lad, looking frightened out of his wits, hastened up to her, heaving as though he'd run all the way from Westcliff and babbling frantically until she could calm him down enough to make sense.

"Kieran, what is the problem, lad?"

He looked at her with panicked eyes. "Pirates, m'lady! They've taken the boardwalk! Everyone has been captured and lined up. My dad with them!"

Stiffening, she gave him swift orders. "Run up to the guard house, alert the Sheriff, tell him to protect the rest of the town," she said. Then, more gently, "Don't be afraid, Kieran. I'll keep your father safe."

The boy nodded his head repeatedly, then took off up the hill toward the guard house, and Sparrow set a course for the docks, drawing her _Nightwatch _._45_ from its holster. As the boardwalk came in sight, she felt her heart pound strangely. _It couldn_'_t be_. The obvious leader of the crew had a man kneeling several feet from him. It was Patrick, a simple carpenter, with the pirate's pistol aimed between his brows. Pushing her thoughts aside, she pressed closer, leveling her pistol and squeezed the trigger once.

The gun's report was deafening. The Pirate King heard it, but didn't react, so shocked was he that someone had dared fire upon him. In a flash the bullet impacted with the side of his pistol, shattering into dozens of shrapnel fragments as his weapon flew from his fingers. There was dead silence as everyone present watched in horrified fascination as the Pirate King's prized _Dragonstomper _._48_ arced through the air and landed with a undignified _plunk_ several yards out into the harbor.

Belatedly tearing his eyes from the kneeling man, Reaver locked eyes with his adversary, tension rising between them so sharply that pirate and villager alike backed away from the spectacle, eager _not_ to get caught between a battle of Heroes.

Sparrow didn't move, nor did she lower her weapon, but kept it trained on Reaver, her eyes hard with contempt. "On what grounds do you attack my town, Pirate King?"

Something in her voice jarred his memory. He glanced her over more thoroughly, taking in the smooth skin that boasted youth and vibrance. Her coltish, long-legged figure was held with pride bordering on arrogance, challenging him and any knave foolish enough to defy her. Her red hair was spun with gold and elegantly pulled back, but he had a sudden vision of it flowing free and tousled, wild as the green eyes that tempted and taunted him to distraction.

"Sparrow?" he mused aloud, hardly believing his eyes. How was this possible? She looked younger than she had the day he'd met her. "By Skorm, it is you. How is it you stand before me as a youth? Change your opinion about the Shadow Court after all?" he added loftily.

She gave him a hard smile. "Never. _My _agelessness is the will of Avo and the Light. Apparently selflessness is just as worthy as selfishness, in the grand scheme of things. Now answer my question, Pirate, before I'm forced to spill your brains across the boardwalk."

Reaver scowled, immediately remembering his previous anger. "Very well, if you _must_ know, I came to reclaim my home, but instead I found" - he gestured violently at the houses and shops - "_this_," he spat, making the word sound more filthy and vulgar than any obscenity.

Sparrow nodded. "And?"

Reaver glared at her. "And? _And_? And just _what_ has happened to my beautiful, lawless Bloodstone? This was my coastal paradise. Now look at it. Not a whore or brigand in sight."

"I'm what happened, Pirate," Sparrow said pleasantly.

"_You_?" he said disbelievingly, clearly incensed. "You dared this?" He stepped toward Sparrow aggressively, but was forced to a pause when the thundering of footsteps sounded behind her. In seconds a unit of guards in formation headed by Sheriff Sedgewick stood behind their Mayor, weapons drawn.

"I see you've got the situation well in hand, Miss Sparrow," Sedgewick said dryly, smiling under his pure-white, neatly-groomed mustache.

"Indeed. And you have secured the town?" she asked.

"Of course, Miss Sparrow."

She nodded and addressed the Pirate. "You have been gone a long time, Pirate King. Things have changed around here. For instance, threatening a man's life and holding half my town hostage is a serious criminal offense. I'm going to have to take to take you and your men into custody. And before you argue" - she cut him off as he opened his mouth - "please remember you are unarmed and in no position to object."

Reaver laughed. A true, mirth-filled laugh. "Oh, very well Sparrow, it is clear you have me 'cornered and outgunned'. Speaking of guns, do you think you could at least have one of these strapping young lads dive into the briny and fish mine out?"

Slightly turning her face to Sedgewick while keeping her eyes on Reaver, she said, "Once we have his men into custody send one of _them_ down for it." Her sheriff nodded, and she returned her full attention to Reaver. She held out her hand to Sedgewick, who handed her a pair of shackles.

Approaching Reaver, she took his wrists.

"Oh, I didn't know you to be _this_ adventurous, Sparrow," he purred. "To be honest, I think these would look much better on you."

With a hard smile, she tightened the last shackle until he winced. The second she released his hands, he grabbed her, spinning her around as he wrapped the chains between his shackles around her neck. Sparrow kept spinning until she was facing him once more, ignoring the tightening of the sturdy chain. The triumph in Reaver's eyes faded as he felt the cold steel of her _Nightwatch_ pressed against the underside of his jaw. "Well played," he drawled with a forced smile. She cocked the hammer for emphasis, her eyes blazing. Reaver swallowed hard and grudgingly released the tension in the chain.

As soon as she was free, she motioned Sedgewick forward, and together they took a firm hold of the Pirate. "Everyone please return to your homes until otherwise notified," she addressed the town folk. Turning to her guards she said loudly, "Secure the rest of them. If they resist, shoot them. We show no mercy for pirates."

Together, she and Sedgewick dragged Reaver all the way up to the manor, depositing him in a chair in her study. Sparrow nodded for her sheriff to leave, but just as he was about to close the door, Daniels forced his way in, worry clearly written on his face. When he saw Reaver he looked stunned. "So the rumors among the guard were true." He then turned to his Captain angrily. "What were yeh thinking, facing down the Pirate King without any sort of backup? Capt'n?"

Sparrow glared at him with the authority of her position. "Mister Daniels, that is enough. As you can see, I have business to attend to right now. We can speak later, in a more civilized manner if you please. I suggest you return to your duties."

Looking as though she had slapped him, he gave Reaver a hard glare. The Pirate merely smirked at him. Together, he and Sedgewick left the study, and Sparrow sat at her desk across from the Pirate King.

"Well, I must say, I don't care for what you've done with the place," Reaver said, glancing around at the modifications she'd made to his home. The study was no closed off from the upper level, but there were, however, two conveniently placed windows on the far wall, looking out over a small but elegant garden.

Sparrow ignored his comment. "Reaver, what are you doing here?" she asked with sudden exasperation, her cold exterior vanishing in place of amused frustration. "And threatening my town at gunpoint? I suppose I should be grateful no one was shot by the time I got there."

"Well, one man was," he rectified, "but he was one of mine."

She raised an eyebrow for a moment, but shook her head, deciding she didn't want to know. "So what _are_ you doing here?"

"Well, as you know, I have some friends around these parts to whom I owe a debt. I had hoped to spend some leisure time in my manor throwing decadent parties or even taking a stroll down to the _Blue Lagoon_, but I expect that's quite impossible now, isn't it."

She nodded with a wry smile. "Indeed. It's an orphanage now."

Reaver snorted. He should have guessed as much.

"Well Reaver, invading my town with lethal force usually carries the sentence of hanging, but given that no one was harmed and you gave yourself up _somewhat_ peaceably, I can grant you a pardon." She paused, looking sour before continuing delicately. "As for your... debt, you can remain in Bloodstone long enough to pay it, but I have three conditions. First, you are not to use any one of my citizens as your sacrifice. If one of your own crew would like to..." - she cleared her throat - "_volunteer_, they are welcome to it. Second, while you are here, your crew are to remain aboard your ship, though your first mate may come ashore escorted to trade for supplies. And last, as soon as you have completed your business, you are to leave my town and not return until it is time for your next payment. Any objections?"

Reaver gave her a patronizing smile. "My, my, little Sparrow, haven't you become quite the authoritarian. Maybe I was wrong about you wearing the shackles." He allowed a moment for that to sink in, but continued before she could retort. "Very well, I'll play your little game. But in return, I have a condition of my own."

"I'm am not obligated to grant you anything, but go on."

"I want you to accompany me and a member of my crew to the Shadow Court. For safety reasons. You certainly have no trouble dealing with those banshee types."

Sparrow gave him an exasperated look, but figured she might as well. She was itching for some excitement anyway, even more so after the thrill of besting the Pirate King, and a romp through the marsh just might do in a pinch. "Fine. Lets go."

Reaver sat with his mouth agape. "You want to go _now_? But... but we just made port. Could we have one day and one night to rest, at the very least?"

She scowled. "Fine, but we leave first thing in the morning. I trip through the fen and back can take a full day." She sat back in her chair, musing in her mind. What was she going to do with him for the next twenty-four hours? She couldn't leave him in the custody of any of her men. Reaver was well known for his trickery, and it just wouldn't do to have him seduce and dupe one of her guards. She'd have to keep him with her. Well, it looked like it would be a long day of paper work. Standing abruptly, she grabbed the back of the Pirate's chair and dragged it into a corner, with him in it.

"Stay right here," she snapped, then went to the door to summon the Sheriff. Briefly, she informed him of her decisions and ordered him to have them carried out. "And send Mrs. Kumar to attend to me," she added. "I have a feeling I will be needing her."

Closing the door she turned and resumed her seat at her desk, pulling a stack of paperwork from a drawer and getting started on it.

Reaver studied her while she had been dealing with her uniformed lackey, but he felt a moment's panic as he watched her start to scribble on a mound of papers. "Is that what you intend to do all day?" he asked, clearly aghast.

She paused with an air of annoyance. "Well, I'm stuck with you until tomorrow. I can't trust you to behave enough to let you wander around on your own or even with an escort. So we're stuck in here, and I still have work to do. Unless you would rather sit alone in a locked room with no windows."

"Work, work, work," he groused. "Is that all you do, Sparrow? I remember a time when you were a fresh young Hero, hell bent on revenge, of course, but still treating life as an adventure."

"Oh shut it, Reaver," she snapped, "you know nothing at all about my life." Resuming her work, she did her best to ignore his bored sighs and moans. It wasn't long before he was interrupting her again.

"Could I at least be permitted to move about the room?" he asked.

She looked at him strangely, as though wondering how it was that he was so bold as to even ask. Then she shrugged. Reaver wasn't anything she couldn't handle. But still, better be safe. She opened the door again to reveal Mrs. Kumar entering her parlor. "Mrs. Kumar, would you be so kind as to summon nine guards from town for me?"

"Yes, Miss Sparrow," she bowed in her fashion and left. It was twenty long minutes later, minutes filled with Reaver's incessant complaining accompanied by the sound of heavily grinding teeth, that Mrs. Kumar returned, nine heavily armed, muscle-bound officers accompanying her. Nodding her head in approval, Sparrow ordered them to lock the door from the outside and to keep a guard of three posted at the door and both windows until sunset, admitting no one. Should anyone attempt to leave the room, their orders were to shoot to kill, as well as commandeer the Pirate's ship. Handing over her precious _Nightwatch_ to Mrs. Kumar, she said, "Keep it locked in its case and bring us a large meal every four hours."

Reaver smirked broadly as the lock clicked in the heavy wooden door and Sparrow removed his shackles. "Such lengths you've gone through to confine me, little Sparrow. Have you considered that it may all be in vain?" he wondered, pacing across the room.

She glared at him and resumed her seat. "I'm not doing this for you, it is for the safety of my town. I don't trust you. You ought to know that."

"Then why have you locked yourself in a room with me, alone and unarmed?" he queried, glancing casually along her wall-length bookshelf.

"I can handle myself hand to hand," she said proudly. "Something I'm willing to bet you can't."

He smirked again. Little Sparrow... though hardly so little anymore. She looked so young, but he could see she had become a fierce leader, almost his match in every way. Browsing through the books, he realized most of them had been here back when he had owned the mansion. _She_'_s gone to such lengths to remove my very essence_,_ but this_..._ this she keeps_. Smiling to himself, he chose his favorite, a biography that touched on his own life and adventures, and sat down to read. Surprisingly though, for the first time, the book barely held his interest. His eyes kept straying to his 'captor', reading the serious lines that would be etched into her face someday. She had changed much. Gone was the windblown hair and colorful, skimpy garments. Looking at her now, it was hard to envision her in those tiny shorts that hugged her round bottom, that tight corset the forced her pretty breasts upward in a way that almost begged a man to play with them, and of course, those sleek boots that fitted so nicely to her long, shapely legs. In that moment, he felt an urge to tear away her restrictive, no-nonsense uniform and release her wild curls from the chignon atop her head, just to see a glimpse of the Sparrow from years past.

Self-conscious under his intense scrutiny, Sparrow began to fidget and shift until finally her eyes flashed up to his, and she almost immediately looked away. There was hunger in his eyes that had not been there minutes ago, it almost burned her, but she refused to back down. Liking her lips, which had suddenly gone dry, she tried to glare him down. "Is there something you want?" she asked, forcing her tone to remain neutral.

Reaver watched her tongue trace the fullness of her lips until it disappeared back into her mouth, and for a moment was so distracted he almost missed her question. "You're so different. You hardly resemble the Sparrow I remember."

"And what of it?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent. "Do you know I am almost forty years old? No matter what I look like, I'm not a little girl running off on an adventure anymore. I have a town and ships and responsibilities."

"What good is any of that?" he scoffed. "Life is about enjoying every moment to its fullest."

She shook her head and tried to ignore him. Reaver abruptly stood, coming closer until he was standing over her. In a flash he grasped the ribbon that held her hair in place, snatching it from her and smiling as the tousled red curls fell down her back.

"Reaver, stop it. Give me my ribbon back," she demanded. He smiled devilishly, taking the ribbon and dangling it before her eyes.

"Work is so boring. Perhaps if you will play a game with me I will give it back," he drawled flirtatiously.

"Are you a child? I don't have time for your games, Pirate," she growled, reaching for the ribbon. He held it above her, still a head taller than her. Tipping her off balance, he pulled her against him and locked both arms around her.

Looking down at her lewdly, he drawled, "There are so many more interesting things we can do together while locked away in here." Deliberately, he allowed his hand to slither up her ribcage and cup her breast. Sparrow gasped, both shocked and outraged. Furiously, she pushed away and slapped him, giving him a dark glare. Smiling nonchalantly, he tossed the ribbon out the window and returned to his chair.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she growled, her fists clenching.

"If your so upset, go and get it, Sparrow," he said slyly, resuming his seat and his book. Or pretended to resume his book. He kept his eyes on her, chuckling to himself as she pushed the heavy fall of hair away from her face and flopped in her seat. More silence. "So, I see you finally found a man," he said conversationally.

She stared at him for a moment but went back to filling out paperwork. "What are you prattling on about now?"

He smiled pleasantly. "The sailor boy. The one who practically wet himself over you facing the terrible Pirate King without him."

Sparrow blushed. "He's not my man, he's my Commander. And he was only concerned. I shouldn't have been so hard on him. He meant well."

"He seems quite smitten with you, though I can't see how that's possible," he said coolly.

Sparrow frowned at his sudden tone. "What is that supposed to mean? Just cause I don't go throwing myself at every man doesn't mean one can't fall in love with me."

"So then why _isn_'_t_ he your man?" When she didn't answer, he pressed on. "Could it be you _still_ don't know the touch of one after all this time?"

Her back stiffened. "You know nothing about me."

He chuckled. "Little Sparrow, I have been around an awful long time; far longer than you. I'm good at reading a person's secrets without their knowledge or assent."

She snorted.

Reaver ignored the interruption. "I see you sitting there, buried in your work and your gold nautical braid. But remember, I knew you before this. On the outside you play the part well, yet I see the spark in your eyes that says the real you is in there somewhere. Or is it just wishful thinking?" He smirked at her before looking back down at his book. "Is that why he isn't your man? You have become cold? Only patsies such as your 'Mister Daniels' want a frigid bitch who can freeze his parts off, but could it be that you don't even have the heart in you to return his feelings?"

Sparrow looked into his changeable eyes, right now the color of a storm at sea, and spoke with a calm that surprised even her. "You may have known me once, Pirate, but like I said, a lot has changed. No matter what you may think, this is who I am now. We'll deal with your debt tomorrow and you will be on your way. Speak another word between now and tomorrow morning, and I will shackle and gag you. Do I make myself clear?"

The Pirate only smiled obligingly and pressed his lips together, then pursed them at her. She rolled her eyes and went back to work while the Pirate's eyes darkened, challenging all that she claimed.


	3. And So the Wheel Turns

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable, but what wouldn't I give to own Reaver?

Author's Annotation: Thank you very much for the reviews. And Isa, I am so glad you caught that. I was hoping someone was paying enough attention to realize. Please read, enjoy and review. Oh, and there is _some_ adult content near the ending of this chapter. If you don't like that or you aren't old enough, you know the drill. And in case you don't, here it is: Skip It Or Go Read Something Else. I personally don't care if you're underage and read it, I mean, I've been there, but if you don't like it or can't handle it, then you really shouldn't.

Warning: Some adult content ahead.

* * *

Chapter Three

And So the Wheel Turns

* * *

Sparrow could have laughed aloud when she first laid eyes on Reaver the next morning. She had arrived at the prison at the crack of dawn to shake the Pirate awake. Forced to sleep alone, manacled to a bed in a cell the whole night, his hair was askew, looking somehow lifeless and dull, and the creases in his face and clothes proved he had not had a restful night. He pried open his hazy eyes, thinking for a disoriented moment that she looked different this morning. Her hair was pulled back in a long braid and wound in a coil atop her head. The loose shirt she wore was pure black trimmed with liquid gold, complemented by tight black trousers and black leather boots that reached to her knees. He shook the distraction away as he remembered his predicament, and the look he gave Sparrow promised severe retribution; instead of being properly intimidated, however, his captor had the audacity to laugh at him.

_It serves him right_, Sparrow thought. With an attempt at consideration the Thief obviously did not deserve, Sparrow had offered to let him share her chamber the night before. Well, that was a last. The insatiable Pirate had had the gall to suggest that since she had seen to the end of his favorite brothel, that _she_ should offer him her pleasurable company for the night instead. Flushed and irate, she had made other _less pleasurable_ sleeping arrangements for him.

Sparrow gave him time to eat and freshen up before they walked, shackled together at one wrist, down to the boardwalk, where they were met with one of Reaver's own crew. Sparrow highly doubted the man had any idea what was about to happen to him, but she kept her mouth shut, learning that he didn't even speak their language anyway. His hands were shackled behind his back, and he sidled closer to the leading pair as they entered Wraithmarsh.

"Am I to be left unarmed and helpless?" Reaver suddenly complained as the road became soggy and white fog pressed in.

Sparrow looked at him in disbelief. "Do you seriously think I would trust you with a weapon? Besides, you asked me to come along for protection. Now be silent so I can do my job."

Sparrow's senses immediately flared out, seeking information in the eerie silence. Everyone and everything, even the marsh itself, seemed to be holding its breath. Even Reaver remained thankfully silent, but he seemed unimpressed by his surroundings. He had put on a hard mask in place of his normally charming smile; his eyes were cold and silent, making her flinch away from them.

The fog was so thick this morning that they could barely see a few feet in front of them. Sparrow and Reaver knew the way by heart, pressing forward in silence. The young pirate with them appeared scared out of his mind, almost squeezing himself between the two Heroes.

At the large stone gate guarding the Shadow Court, Reaver inserted the dark seal into the grooves like a key, turning it three times before an audible _click_ pierced the silence. The three of them forced the doors open. Sparrow shivered as she got her first look at the Shadow halls in a decade. Nothing had changed. She could detect no sign of danger, but remained alert, prepared for an ambush.

* * *

Reaver did not speak a word; he could feel an invisible weight pressing down on him, dampening out his soul. He felt this every time he came to pay his debt. He knew it to be the weight of his past, of Oakvale, but he refused to think of it. That wasn't him. He steeled himself against the weight, holding his regal head high, leading his sacrifice forward with no thought of him as more than an object. _I am Reaver_.

At the entrance to the cavernous chamber where the debt would be paid, Sparrow stopped their progress long enough to unshackle the Pirate. Reaver gave a her a look that suggested puzzlement.

"Take him in by yourself. I'll wait for you here."

Nodding brusquely, he took the sacrifice by the upper arm, dragging it forcibly into the Court, his face set in stone.

* * *

Sparrow sighed, feeling a heavy weight pressing down upon her. This wasn't right, but... a deal was a deal. Soon Reaver would be gone, and she could get back to her life. Positioning herself well to the side of the archway, she aimed her pistol and waited for the Thief to return. Strange, but she couldn't hear anything going on in the inner chamber. What was happening?

A sudden surge of power and a high scream answered her question. She didn't have to wait long before a withered form came running wildly out of the Court, sobs and screams echoing off the cavernous halls. Without hesitation she squeezed off one shot; her target dropped like a stone. She mentally brushed aside the twinge in her heart and waited. Dignified footsteps could be heard, and then Reaver appeared out of the darkness.

His sacrifice had fulfilled its purpose. Reaver looked almost as young as she, and as fair as any maiden. The creases in his skin had vanished, and his hair was sleek and smooth once more, the golden brown so rich it seemed to shine in the darkness. He glanced passively at the corpse on the floor before seeking out Sparrow, his blue-green eyes locking with hers.

"You killed him?" he asked archly, as though asking about her choice in boots.

"A mercy killing," she murmured with a touch of sadness. He made no further comment, walking over to her, though her pistol was still leveled with his chest. He pushed it aside, pulling her closer. She let him, shocked by his boldness and forgetting for a moment why she needed to be so cautious with him. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly while he took her chin between his finger and thumb, his sharp gaze piercing her. She sucked in her breath, unable to look away from his hard, soulless eyes. They burned her, drained her, made her unable to think... unable to resist. Purposefully, he lowered his lips, ever so slowly, until gently they pressed to hers, feathering lightly over them, slowly increasing the pressure until hers parted only slightly. He quickly pressed his advantage, tasting her lips with the tip of his tongue, then delving deeper, until hers was intertwined with his, dancing and caressing.

_Clink_.

Sparrow jerked out of his arms in a panic, then saw his own hand clasped about the manacle attaching his wrist to hers.

"My business is finished here," he breathed huskily. "Shall we get out of this wretched place?"

Dizzily she nodded, stepping around the body on the floor and taking the lead out into the fen.

* * *

Sparrow beamed with alleviation as they crested the final hill that left Wraithmarsh and looked over Bloodstone.

"We made it," she breathed, taking a near giddy step towards civilization. Without warning, she felt her body abruptly jerked to the left. Losing her balance, she had no choice but to fall freely. A heavy chain caught her round the throat, and hard fingers wrapped around her right hand, and over her trigger finger, raising the business end of the pistol to her head.

"Reaver!" she shrieked, desperate to struggle, but realizing he had caught her off guard and she was in a possibly lethal situation.

"Now, now, Sparrow, no need to fret," he soothed. "Just play nice and there will be no need for anymore... unpleasantness." He locked her in his arms more securely. "You are going to be my insurance out of here. We're going to walk into town, demand that my _Dragonstomper_ and _Reaver II_ be restored to me, and board my ship. And you are going to do this all without a fuss, understand?"

"Yes," she replied through gritted teeth. Reaver smiled behind her and together they entered Bloodstone, taking slow, calculated steps. The first people on the boardwalk to notice them set out to panic, but at Reaver's insistence, Sparrow instructed them to go inside the nearest store or home and lock the doors until this was over. They obeyed her instructions, and the pair reached his ship without incident. The guards posted were alarmed to see their Mayor in peril, but again she spoke soothingly, instructing them to retrieve the Pirate's gun and return with haste. One man took off at a run, and Reaver turned to the remaining guards.

"Now, I demand you step away from my ship," he drawled silkily. "Once the lad has returned my precious _Dragonstomper_, we will be on our way."

"Not until you release the Mayor," one of the men protested.

Aiming between his brows, he was ready to fire when Sparrow spoke. "Jackson, don't get smart with him. Just follow my orders and do as the Pirate says."

Defeated, they backed away. As they reached the opposite side of the cobbled road the guard returned, bearing the Pirate's pistol. Sedgewick and Daniels were hot on his heels.

"Ye filthy bastard, release her!" Daniels roared at the Thief.

"Daniels, stand down," Sparrow ordered swiftly when she felt the Pirate start to raise her pistol again.

Daniels didn't seem to hear her, so fixed was he on Reaver, who smiled patronizingly back at him. "What man threatens a woman? Take your fight up with me, Pirate King."

Without hesitation, Reaver removed the pistol from her throat and squeezed the trigger once, and Daniels fell to his knees on the cobblestones, grasping his right shoulder in agony as bright red blood splattered across the ground.

"You soulless son of a whore, that was a cheap shot," Daniels snarled.

Reaver merely shrugged. He hadn't meant to miss, but Sparrow had jerked her arm at the last second, ruining his impeccable aim. Restraining her tighter as she attempted to struggle, he retrained the pistol on her as he smiled at the bleeding man. "All is fair, in love and war." Reaver turned to the guard with his grubby mitts clutching the Pirate's precious gun. "Bring that to your beloved Mayor. Nice and slow now. We don't want any more accidents, do we? Sparrow, put out your hand."

The guard inched forward, holding her gaze. She cautioned him, praying he wouldn't try to be brave and do something stupid. But the exchange was made without incident. Soon the two of them were backing down the dock and up the gangplank. He shouted a demand that the anchor be raised and they set sail immediately. "I will be keeping your Mayor as insurance that you don't pursue us. If I tire of her, perhaps I will return her to you," he added with a wink at Daniels, who cursed loudly and jumped to his feet. Holding his bleeding shoulder, he began to chase after the ship, but the tide was already pulling them out.

Still held in Reaver's arms, Sparrow watched as her town grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing altogether in the encroaching darkness. Then she slowly became aware of the men working on the ship around her, then of the Pirate holding her closer than was still necessary. Dimly, she wondered what he thought she would do if he released her. Run away? Indeed, right into the frigid water miles out to sea. _Or not_.

With irritation she turned to her captor, suddenly realizing their roles were reverse. Acutely aware of him leering down at her, she suddenly felt defensive and tried to jerk out his arms. His hold merely tightened. "What is the meaning of this, Pirate King?" she demanded furiously. "You take me hostage and kidnap me from my home? After I fulfilled my promise and had every intention of letting you go on your way? Exactly what is going on in that head of yours?"

Reaver merely smiled, clearly pleased with himself as she tallied his misdeeds. "You took me prisoner," he commented, "and locked me away in your jail. I'd say turn about is fair play. Perhaps I should keep you in the brig overnight."

She continued to glared at him, but did not reply. His lips curved into a smile. "Perhaps you should have been paying more attention. You might not be in this mess. Next time I recommend not getting so... _distracted_."

Cheeks reddened, she opened her mouth to retort, but he pressed a finger to her lips. "Now now, not another word or I shall happily gag and shackle you." Her mouth snapped shut and his eyes twinkled vindictively. "Good little Sparrow." With one hand he reached into her pocket, retrieving her key ring and unlocking their shackles, holding on to them for some later use. Grasping her upper arm, he dragged her to his cabin at the stern end of the ship, roughly tossing her inside the door. "Wait here for me," he ordered. "Unless you have a mind to get better acquainted with my crew," he added, looking at her thoughtfully for a moment. Her glare intensified, letting him know that whatever he was thinking, it wasn't happening.

Once the door was shut and locked, she turned and examined her surroundings. At first, she considered she might be in the wrong room. Or on the wrong ship. This room was exactly what one would expect of a sea captain, with comfortable leather chairs, map tables, and a desk filled with charts and papers. A compass and a globe of the world dominated the center of the room.

On the opposite side of the room was a wooden door. Hesitantly, glancing around as though afraid to be caught, she moved closer to it. Cracking it open ever so slightly, she gasped as the interior was revealed to her. This was obviously Reaver's inner cabin, as it had his unique, strong personality stamped all over it. It was dominated by boisterous shades of red, black, and gold. The walls were lined with cabinets that were probably priceless, made from an exotic wood that was the same hue and intensity of burning fire and inlaid with gold, and the wooden floor was covered with a thick, plush rug in coal black, with fur so thick her feet sank into it. A large bed took over the far corner, and was covered with black sheets, but most decadent of all was an airy flame-silk canopy that covered the top, with silk panels that would conceal the interior once let loose from their cords. But even then, the fabric was sheer and would only partially hide its occupants. Worse still, a full length mirror lined the wall opposite the bed, and Sparrow didn't even want to think of it's purpose, other than for the Pirate to stand and admire his own beauty.

With a red blush on her cheeks, Sparrow spun around to leave, only to walk straight into something hard. Bouncing back, she peered up and into Reaver's curious eyes.

"I see you're admiring my bed," he said with a sly grin. "Care to try it out?"

She glowered up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't get any ideas. Just because you're holding me captive doesn't mean I intend to make this easy or fun for you. Just how long do you plan to hold me here?" she asked, then interrupted. "Oh yes, I remember, until you _tire_ of me," she scoffed.

His smile seemed to reach the corners his dark eyes as they gazed at her unblinkingly. "Do not fear, my little Sparrow, I shall not be putting you aside anytime soon."

"So how long? Do you have a destination in mind, or are we drifting about rudderless?" she demanded again.

He sighed and moved towards a large wardrobe cut from ebony. He opened it and removed his coat, hanging it with care inside. "I think we may return to Samarkand. As I no longer have a refuge in Bloodstone, I must seek out a new one." He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into a basket before turning to her. "Sounds like a grand adventure, wouldn't you agree?"

Sparrow grit her teeth, speaking to him in piecemeal as though he were a simpleton. "No, Pirate, it does not. I have issues to see to back home. If you drop me off at the nearest port I can make my way back, and I won't send my ships chasing you down like the dog you are."

His grin was dark, something she had yet to see in Reaver. She had seen him arrogant, and she knew he was a backstabbing man-whore, but she had never seen a look on him like the one he was giving her now. It was as though apart of the Shadow Court had come back with him, was staring out at her through his eyes. A small part, but enough to send a chill up her spine.

He stood, graceful and sleek, to pull her toward him. She landed against his bare chest, gasping as she tried to pull away. He held her close, Shadows swirling in his eyes and a twisted curve in his perfect lips.

"My little Sparrow, do try to understand, I won't be releasing you until I see fit. You are _my_ captive now," he whispered, trailing his finger along her cheek. "_My_ prisoner. You are not to go anywhere without me. It is not as if I could trust any of my men to watch over you," he mocked with a smirk. She knew he was serious, but for much different reasons than she had been.

"Reaver, please be reasonable. You don't need me anymore, you're free and can sail off into the great blue yonder for another decade before we need to face each other again," she protested, trying to be the voice of rationality. It was a struggle to keep her voice firm, but she couldn't afford to be losing her head.

The Pirate shook his head solemnly. "No, Sparrow," he murmured, almost distractedly, burying his face in her hair. He leisurely tugged at her braid, smoothing it out until her hair flowed in wavy locks down to her thighs. His lips found hers, taking from her almost drunkenly. This was nothing like before. His kiss was hot and demanding, leaving her breathless, and almost spineless. Heat flowed through her, spreading along her limbs. Her arms tingled as he lifted them around his neck.

To her shock and despair, her body answered his; breathy moans spilled from her lips as her body was pressed flush with his, arching into him. Steering her toward the soft bedding, her urged her down, coming down atop her and sealing her lips with his again. He didn't want to think. He didn't want her thinking. It had been a too long since he'd had a woman, and a dark madness inside him was urging him on, until he felt he'd die if he didn't feel her legs around him.

Encircling each knee, he parted her legs and pulled them up high. Her eyes widened in alarm when she felt him through their clothes, hard and demanding, and she struggled against the vulnerable position, groaning in denial as a burning heat spread through her. Reason screamed in her mind at last, and she attempted to shove him away. "Don't do this," she gasped, tearing her lips from his.

Reaver paused, puzzled by the slight fear in her voice. Looking through the haze of need her searched her eyes. "Where is my brave little adventuress..." he mused, seemingly to himself. "She was never afraid of me."

Sparrow shook her head. "I am _not _afraid of you, Pirate," she growled menacingly. "Its just... I can't do _this_ with _you_."

His expression cleared, but in its place was a twisted smile. "If you don't want to sleep in my bed, I'm sure I can make _other arrangements_ for you." She stared at him, wondering if he was serious. But she didn't care right now. She was not scared of this boy trapped in the body of a never aging man, and any arrangement was better than this, she told herself fiercely.

"Anything would be preferable," she replied haughtily. Reaver smiled again and shrugged. In one motion he stood, dragging her up with him and tossing her over his shoulder. Ignoring her protests and kicks, he walked through his outer cabin, pausing only to grab his cloak off the back of a chair. He continued on until she felt the cool breeze of the ocean. He dropped her beside the mainmast and enveloped her securely in his cloak. Sparrow found both of her wrists held securely by a crewman. She glared at Reaver venomously as he tied the end of the rope around one wrist, then walked around the mast and tied the other wrist. As a finishing touch he walked around her several times, making sure she was held securely. The crewman departed and returned to their duties.

"This should do nicely," he commented, admiring his own handiwork.

"Sod off, Pirate," she growled. He took her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him.

"Tsk, tsk," he murmured, tracing her lips with the pad of his thumb. "This could have been so much easier on both of us if you could have played nice. Things were going along so well. Now you've left me like this," he complained, stroking himself lewdly.

"Like I said, I'm not going to make this easy for you. You may as well just send me home."

He smiled at the challenge in her voice. "I can make this hard on you, too, Sparrow," he breathed, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, locking her in place even as his hand released her chin, trailing down her throat and over the curve of her shoulder. "If you'd like to play that game, it can be very fun, and two can play." A cry erupted from her throat as she felt his fingers sharply pinch her nipple through the thin material of her shirt, twisting it slightly before cupping her full breast in his hand, kneading and caressing, and his other hand slid up from her waist to assault the other. She held his gaze, somehow fearing that looking away would mean backing down from her captor, her adversary.

Heat pooled low in her belly, but she did her best to deny it. She couldn't stand for Reaver to know he was effecting her, but the satisfaction in his eyes told the truth. Unerringly, his hand skimmed lower, sliding between her clenched thighs and cupping her folds through her clothes. He moaned deep in his throat as he felt the heat radiating through the fabric into his hand. On age-old instinct, he began to grind the heel of his palm into her, pleasure blossoming through him as he heard her breath hitch and he felt her tremble. He held her gaze, savoring the reddening of her cheeks as her pupils doubled in size. A deep moan escaped her swollen lips, and he persisted, grinding harder until her hips were bucking helplessly in rhythm with his hand.

"Please..." she pleaded, hating the way her voice shook. "Please...please don-"

He paused, but only long enough to slip his hand inside her trousers; he groaned in ecstasy when he felt the damp heat pouring from her and slid a finger between her folds to caress her swollen nub. Her hips bucked forcefully at his first touch, making contact with his. A gasp wrenched itself from both their throats and his hips rocked against hers as he lost himself to need. Fighting to take hold of himself, he continued to hold her gaze, watching every spasm of pleasure on her face as he mercilessly stroked her, teasing her until she was riding his fingers helplessly, fighting and failing to hold back her voice as her whimpers and moans grew louder. She knew anyone on deck was able to hear her. It was mortifying, but she couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop him. She wound tighter and tighter, wet heat coating his fingers and her thighs, proving to him that he had her where he wanted her. Finally, she tried to look away, to conceal her humiliation, but he threaded his free hand through her hair, forcing her to face him. Her lips quivered as she felt the pressure building, getting tighter until she thought it might kill her.

He watched her closely, pushing her higher and higher, until her body began to shake against him and her moans became cries. And then, without warning, he stopped, pulling himself away from her as he watched the rapture fade quickly from her eyes to be replaced by panic and anger. He watched her battle with her pride, wanting to beg him to continue, but unable to let herself do it. With a sinful smile he licked his fingers.

"Mmm, you do taste lovely, my dear Sparrow. Perhaps tomorrow night, if you are more amenable, we shall continue this." Turning on one heel, he walked away, intent of pulling one or more of his crew out of their beds to join his.

"You bastard!" she screamed after him. "I hate you!"

A chuckle was the only reply she got.

* * *

Author's Sidethought: Yeah, I figure after something like that, she deserved to scream and swear at him.


	4. Learning Curve

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable, but what I would give to own sole rights to Reaver ^_^

Author's Observation: You may notice Reaver has a rather dark personality. This is intentional. I want him to be so. One doesn't sell there soul without consequences, I believe. And thank you very much to those who reviewed.

* * *

Chapter Four

Learning Curve

* * *

It was high noon before Sparrow was cut down from the mainmast. She had awoken early to the sounds of the crew hustling about and a horrible crick in her neck. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to stretch properly, and despite other best efforts, no one would cut her down without Reaver's consent. And just where was that bloody rat anyways? After the humiliation he had put her through last night, she had every intention of giving him a piece of her mind the second her hands were free. She'd beat the man within an inch of his life, and maybe a bit further. But by noon, with the sun beating down on her and exhaustion setting in from such a restless night, most of the fight had drained out of her.

At last she heard arrogant, jovial tones coming from the quarterdeck and raised her eyes just in time to see the Pirate strut into her line of sight, dressed in nothing but a strange, foreign-looking white robe trimmed with gold that made his skin seem darker than it was, which was already tanned deeply from weeks at sea. He smiled, his ocean blue eyes sparkling at her and, for a small moment, she forgot her anger, only to have it return with a vengeance as said eyes looked her over slowly from head to toe.

"Good morning, my lovely Sparrow!" he greeted with a cheeky smile, strolling over to stand in front of her. "I trust you slept as well as I did?"

"It's hardly morning anymore," she grumbled. She matched his smile and his cheery tone, "I had a marvelous sleep. Never better."

His smile widened. "Then I trust you're ready to get started on your chores," he beamed as he loosened her bonds.

"Chores?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, everyone earns their keep aboard this ship, and you are here as my prisoner." Smiling he dangled a the shackles before her eyes. Her mouth dropped.

"You can't be serious," she groused. "How am I supposed to work without my hands."

"Do not fret, little Sparrow, your hands will be in front of you, and there is enough chain for you to be able to move about, within reason."

She scowled when she realized the chain had been shortened so it could not be used as a weapon. Reaver shackled her hands and she jerked at the chain, despairing as she realized her movement would be quite limited.

With a frown she asked, "What are my duties?"

His smile widened. "Your sole duty will be to see to my every need, from seeing to my meals, to maintaining my clothes and styling my hair, even protecting my person should you be called upon to do so."

Her mouth fell open and for a full minute she stared at him in stunned silence. Reaver only smiled back at her, and she desired nothing more than to smack that stupid look off his handsome face. She'd be damned if things went down like this. "I'd rather swab the deck," she declared, deliberately spitting on the weathered wood at his feet. He frowned, and for a moment, darkness swirled in his eyes. Then his smile returned.

"Bloodwyn," he called out. A lad, still green in years, responded. "Fetch the lady a rag and bucket," he ordered, never breaking eye contact with her. The lad nodded, following his directive promptly, handing her the rag and a bucked full of filthy water.

Sparrow immediately got to work, ignoring the pain in the crook of her neck and the draining fatigue. She would not let Reaver bully her around, even if that meant scrubbing this ship from stem to stern.

Reaver took the helm for the rest of the afternoon, steering them through calm, crystal blue seas that Sparrow would occasionally stop to admire. Reaver saw none of it, preferring to watch Sparrow upon her pretty hands and knees, vigorously scrubbing his deck. She never looked at him, and so he felt safe to look his fill without her glaring at him. It took several hours before he noticed the rest of his screw was equally as preoccupied with her, stealing glances as they went about their duties. This made him frown.

At dusk she stubbornly refused his invitation to his cabin, and so for another night she was tied to the mainmast, this time with her hands merely cuffed in front of her. She stood quietly, her head hanging as she tried in vain to doze off.

Sometime late during the night, if the cold were any indication, Sparrow awoke suddenly and alertly, curious as to what had roused her. She held her breath, listening for any noise in the darkness, and nearly yelped in surprise when a rough hand clamped over her mouth. Before she could make a noise she heard a male voice shush her.

"I'm going to release you, just please don't yell," he pleaded, his gruff voice somehow familiar. "You'll give me away, and I'm not here to hurt you." When she didn't answer, he added, "If I were, I would have already done so." Realizing he had a point, she nodded that she understood and he hesitantly released her, pulling his hand completely away when she did not cry out the alarm.

"Who are you?" she whispered. "What do you want?"

A large figure suddenly stepped before her, his face slashed by moonlight. She peered up into his features, her eyes widening after several minutes as recognition dawned. "Alex?"

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "Sparrow."

Her mouth hung agape, at a complete loss for words. He looked... different. He was no longer the young man she remembered. His long brown hair was streaked with gray in some places, and his handsome face was creased with the lines of time. His silver eyes were no longer bright with idealistic youth, but possessed the grim resignation of a man who had seen too much of life.

"Yes," he said quietly, "I'm surprised to see you here, too." He paused for a second, taking her in. "You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you."

"But - what are you doing here? On Reaver's ship?" she gasped.

"As direct as ever," he said, smiling slightly. "It's a lengthy tale, but you don't appear to be going anywhere." He paused, as though to take her in again, assure himself she was really there, and then continued. "A few years ago he made port in Osako," he murmured. "It's a small town in Samarkand," he explained dismissively. "I asked to join his crew. You see," he continued, his tone still low but intensifying, "after you left me alone in Oakfield, I confess, I went looking for you. I couldn't help myself, as young and in love as I was. But then, for ten long years you seemed to disappear from the face of Albion. My search took me to Samarkand, but eventually I realized I was would never find you. So I stopped looking. After a few years of drifting, my path crossed with Reaver's. I was working in a small tavern in Osako and he had stopped in for a drink. Naturally, he began to spin tales of his exploits to all who would listen, most of which were almost too much to believe, but I paid rapt attention along with everyone else. Then I heard your name." Alex went silent for several moments, not never tearing his eyes from her face. "I can't tell you what it felt like, hearing your name after all those years, and out of the blue from a stranger who wandered into town." Another pause. She looked up into his eyes, wondering what he was thinking, but they gave nothing away. "It was almost like... like being born again. Like feeling the heat of the sun after years of winter. And so, before he left, I asked to join up with his crew. I knew a little of sailing and fighting and he took me on his ship without any trouble. It has been nothing but adventure and plunder ever since." He laughed darkly. "At first I held out the hope that somehow by staying close to Reaver I would find you, but after a few years I got used to it and pirating became my life."

Sparrow licked her dry lips. "Well, you were right. Reaver had to come to pay his debt eventually. But he had no idea I would be in Bloodstone."

Alex nodded. "It came as a shock to us all. Seeing Sparrow, the legendary Hero of Albion, take our Captain prisoner, only to be taken hostage in turn by him and dragged aboard our ship." He smiled darkly and she cringed at the memory.

"Yes, well, here I am," she conceded. "And now you have sought me out, and even told me your tale. What is it you want?"

Alex stroked the stubble covering his chin thoughtfully for a moment, looking down at her with unreadable eyes. "To be honest, I'm not sure anymore. I have probably thought it over in my mind a thousand times. I was prepared to give you this long speech about how much it hurt to wake up one day and find you gone, leaving nothing but your scent and a letter telling me goodbye and to be happy. About how broken I was when you didn't return. About those lonely years I spent chasing after you." The stroking stopped and he looked closely at her, until she was suddenly blushing under his close scrutiny. "I was prepared to face Sparrow the woman, with gray in her hair and lines under her eyes that would prove she had lived as many haunted, sleepless nights as I have." Slowly he reached out and placed the tips of his fingers gently against her cheek, petting her soft skin. "But instead I am faced with you, looking not a day older than the moment I fell in love with you." His finger traced her lips then dropped to his side. "Its almost too much."

Sparrow drew in a slow breath. "Alex... I'm sor-"

"No!" he growled, and she stopped abruptly, confused. "Don't. Don't apologize to me. Don't explain." He swallowed hard, his calm exterior breaking for just a moment. "Just tell me one thing. I've asked myself this a million times... Just tell me... Did you love me?"

Sparrow felt her eyes drift down to look at the deck, no longer able to look at him. Had she loved Alex? The honest answer was yes, in her way, but in the way he had felt about her. She hadn't loved him enough to stay, to give up her thirst for revenge and settle into a quiet life in Oakfield. Alex had been a good man who needed an honest chance with an honest woman to share his life with. So instead of asking him to wait for her while she went off to chase down the Hero of Will, she had written him a letter and left it on the pillow next to him. Then she'd left to board the next carriage to Brightwood and never saw him again... until now. Setting her chin, she forced her eyes to meet his.

"No..." she whispered, cringing as the untruth fell from her lips. "I didn't love you. I'm sorry."

Alex nodded, the movement mechanical. "I suppose I should have known. After all this time... If you loved me you would have come to find me." When he said nothing more she turned earnest eyes to him.

"Alex, I need your help," she said baldly.

He looked her over, well aware of her predicament. "I can't promise you anything, Sparrow. I've only managed not to get shot all these years by staying out of Reaver's way and not crossing him. I risk my life if I try to help you."

"I can protect you," she said. "I can give you refuge in Bloodstone, or even aboard one of my ships."

Alex paused to think, his eyes giving nothing away. "As I said, I can't make any promises. I'm not the boy you once knew, Sparrow. I may even betray you in the end."

Sparrow nodded. "We all have our own circumstances. But if you do help me, you will have my gratitude and I will owe you a debt."

Alex gave a noncommittal shrug. "I better get back up to the crow's nest. I can't say if we will speak again. Goodnight, Sparrow."

Sparrow watched him turn as though to walk away, but he stopped, looking at her one last time in the moonlight, his heart wrenching inside his chest. It hurt to look at her. More than he had ever thought it would. Why did she have to look the same? Those eyes sparkled at him as they had that night the first time he had kissed her in the center of Bowerstone square. His calloused hand came up to cup her cheek in the same way, and her eyelashes fluttered for a moment, tempting him. He had been such a fool then to fall for those eyes... He was an even greater fool now as he leaned in closer, gently pressing his warm lips to her soft ones. He kissed her tenderly, chastely, just the same as he had that first time. As he drew away, he looked into those bright orbs one last time before walking away and chuckling darkly to himself as he climbed up to the crow's nest.

"After all this time, I still haven't learned," he muttered into the darkness.

* * *

As the light faded from the sky three days later, Sparrow stood from swabbing the deck and stretched her aching muscles within the confines of her shackles, then walked with all the dignity she could muster toward the stern, leaning cautiously over the rail to catch a cool breeze. She was beyond tired, and hungry too, though she would rather die than admit it. Alex had not come to speak to her for the past few nights, although she was aware of his every move now that she recognized him. He worked all kinds of jobs aboard the ship with a knowledge of it that impressed her. His steady hands did everything from tie a rope to steer the ship with ease and confidence. He completely ignored her, and she him, although sometimes she could have sworn she saw him watching her from the corner of her eye. She sighed when she heard footsteps approaching to disturb her solitude, and turned to find the Pirate standing behind her. She had refused the invitation to join him in his chamber every night. He had allowed her to dine in the Galley instead before tying her back to the mainmast, not releasing her until whenever he saw fit to rise the next day.

"What am I to do now?" she asked.

He smiled to himself. He could see she was exhausted and worn down, but she held herself proudly, almost defiantly. "Well, to start with, you need to eat and bathe. I will have a bath drawn. Go down to the galley and fetch our dinner. Bring them to the outer cabin." She nodded tiredly and went bellow, entering the outer cabin mere minutes later with two steaming plates of something unidentifiable foreign, the scent reminding her of Mrs. Kumar's cooking. Reaver sat at the table in the outer cabin, the maps and charts cleared away and the table set beautifully. She set his plate before him and poured him a stein of Yellow Fairy, but he stopped her from walking away. He indicated for her to put her plate next to his and she did.

"Sit at my feet," he stated simply. Sparrow frowned, but he pinned her with dark eyes, the shadows swirling with the blue, warning her to not to argue. But even as she knelt before him, she voiced her objections. "I can't very well eat from the floor, Reaver."

He roughly took a hold of her chin, squeezing it tightly until her eyes watered. "You will eat where you are ordered. Tonight you will eat on the floor. I will feed you when I see fit. Be happy you are not eating _off_ the floor." He stared into her unblinkingly, dark shadows flickering in his eyes. _So this is what happens to a man who sells his soul to the Shadow Court_. They seemed to be alive in him, staring out at her as she trembled under his gaze. He abruptly released her and started to eat, both of them ignoring the growling in her stomach. Several bites later, he finally lifted the fork from her plate and fed her a piece of meat. "Now that's a good girl," he murmured. "See how much simpler things are when you follow orders? That is why you are below me now, Sparrow. I never take prisoners and I shoot hostages. I cannot have this one exception disobey and challenge my every command. You will learn or I promise, this will be the least severe of your punishments." She did not argue, a little surprised by the strange tone and choice of his words. For all his narcissism and psychopathic disregard for life, she had never heard him speak that way. But what did she know? It wasn't as if she had come to know him the way she had Hammer and Garth.

Reaver cut into her thoughts, feeding her again. She did not look at him, but remained silent and obedient. How was she going to get herself out of this mess and back home? Her next move would obviously have to wait until they made port. But who knew when that would be. She had no idea what their heading was, and when they finally did reach land, that would be when Reaver was likely to be most watchful over her. She would have to work that out when the time came. She would have to be patient and wait for her opportunity. Most importantly, she couldn't count on Alex to help her.

As they finished eating a knock came from the door, and Reaver nodded for her to answer it. She stood and opened the door, admitting several sailors with large buckets full of steaming water. They filed in silently, leering at her as they went back and forth to the inner cabin when she could hear the water being poured. The last to come through was Alex, who merely glanced at her and followed the others. Her eyes locked with his once when Reaver wasn't looking, but he ignored her. When they were gone, Reaver went into the inner cabin, gesturing for her to follow. She did, dragging her feet with dread. Nothing could delay it though, and soon the door was closed behind her.

The first thing she noticed was a large tub had been dragged in sometime since her first night. It stood filled to the brim with hot water, steam rising from the surface, and she nearly fainted with delight, but she noticed worriedly that it was easily large enough for two people. Maybe more. She was brought to a pause by the sound of the door closing behind her.

She looked at Reaver, silently praying he would leave, but instead he merely said, "In you get." Sparrow frowned, and to emphasis his order, he untied his robe and let it drop to the floor, standing before her in all his glory. Her whole face immediately flushed and she spun around. "You can bathe first. I'll wait."

Reaver sighed. "Undress, Sparrow. The water is only getting colder." Wordlessly Reaver stepped behind her and pulled her back against his bare chest. She tried to pull away but stopped when she saw a key in his hand. Gently, he unshackled her wrists, massaging them delicately, making her breath hitch in her throat. Then he began pulling at her clothes, whisking them from her and tossing them on the floor. She struggled with him for her shirt, demanding that he get his hands off her, but he lost his patience and merely ripped the material. She looked in dismay as the shirt fell from her in scraps.

"Reaver! That was the only shirt I own!"

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her where she stood. "Then do as you are told. Your shirt would be in one piece if you had removed it yourself." Kneeling down he forced her boots off, then pulled her trousers down her slender legs, absently caressing them with his hands before lifting her and dropping her unceremoniously into the water.

Sparrow came up cursing, but panicked when she saw Reaver sinking into the water, sighing in delight. "Really, Sparrow, you should relax and enjoy yourself. We only have so much fresh water until we reach land again. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Sparrow's only response was to back as far away as she could, pulling up her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Reaver grinned and shook his head. "How are you going to bathe me curled up like that?" he asked with a patronizing chuckle. Sparrow glared at him, daring again.

"I'm not going to bathe you, Reaver," she hissed, unable to imagine even doing such a thing. Reaver's eyes hardened. The Shadows in them made her shiver.

"I won't ask again, Sparrow," he said quietly. He took a wash rag and scented soap from the shelf beside the tub. Holding them out to her, he waited patiently. With a moment's hesitation, she took them gingerly from his hands. She lathered the cloth, inhaling the aroma of scented soap. It was just like Reaver to bathe in opulence.

When it was ready, she swiped the lathered cloth across his chest. He grabbed her wrist, holding it gently. "Slowly," he instructed, then released her. She did as he said, feeling somewhat better as the soap made the water murky, concealing her... and him. She tried to detach herself from the task, merely moving her hands mechanically until she had washed the front of him, then the back.

Reaver said nothing, merely closing his eyes and relaxing, enjoying her touch. Her hands were steady but soft. He nearly moaned as she passed over the junction of his thighs, and he grabbed her wrist again, not allowing her to miss an inch of him. She thought her face was going to burst into flames as she washed him, trying to touch him with only the cloth. She gasped and dropped the cloth when she felt him start to harden in her hand, immediately jerking away.

Reaver chuckled and pulled her close, crushing her wet hair in his fist as he fused his lips to hers. When she tried to push away he held her to his chest, her body aligned perfectly with his. She could feel him, hard and nestled against her belly, and she froze, afraid to move and risk inciting him further. He kissed her deeply, not allowing her a breath of her own until he abruptly released her, flipping her around so her back was against his chest and her thighs were trapped by his.

"Now, I will bathe you," he breathed in her ear, lathering the cloth despite her garbled protests. He started with her back, and she almost immediately fell into a silent ecstasy as he scrubbed away the sweat and tension she had been accumulating since Wraithmarsh. The heat of the water seeped into her as she finally unwound, resting her chin on her knees and closing her eyes. Reaver's hands worked slowly as he admired the glistening pale skin before him. He couldn't fathom why she resisted him so hard. Her body alone told him she enjoyed his touch, and he wanted to feel more of her soft skin. As his hands snaked under her arms, he dropped the cloth and pulled her flush against him, watching as his soapy hands cupped her soft, full breasts. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw her watching his hands too, her rosy lips parted as though to protest even as her breath caught in her throat. Gently, he toyed with her pink nipples, pinching and pulling them, twisting them between his thumbs and fingers. Sparrow whimpered, trying to squirm away from him but unable to find the strength to break free of his hold.

"Reaver..." she pleaded, watching his hands do sinful things to her that made her legs tremble and her heat spread along her limbs. "Reaver, please... d-don't do this."

He ignored her, pressing his hot mouth to her shoulder, trailing his tongue up her neck to the shell of her ear. "Don't fight me, Sparrow," he breathed as he nibbled at her with his sharp, perfect teeth. He wrapped his legs around hers, pulling her thighs apart as he dipped one hand under the water to gently pet her wet folds. They both moaned as her buttocks squeezed together, where his hard member nestled snugly between them. Sparrow renewed her efforts to escape, but one arm wrapped tightly around her while he tormented them both, stroking her folds and slipping inside them to play with her swollen nub. He closed his eyes in rapture each time her buttocks squeezed him, bringing both of them closer to the brink. Taking firm hold of his own needs, he focused on tormenting her, teasing her nub until she was trembling and writhing in his arms, her lips pleading and moaning his name.

"Just let go, Sparrow, fly for me," his whispered. With a defeated cry she fell apart, riding his fingers helplessly as the searing pleasure drained all of the energy that remained in her. Reaver closed his eyes, relishing her cries and shudders of surrender until her body sank into his, completely depleted. While she lay helplessly in his arms, he took up the cloth again and scrubbed the rest of her body clean, then suddenly he stood and climbed from of the tub, turning to drag her out with him. His lips crushed hers as his kissed her with an intensity bordering on violence. All thoughts flew from her mind and for the first time she kissed him back, moaning into his mouth until he tossed her back on the bed, when reality abruptly hit her.

"Reaver!" she cried out, her voice shaking. He smirked at her, taking a large drying cloth and tossing it over her. She was speechless as he patted her down, rubbing the cloth down her legs and over her body, almost tender as her dried her skin, lingering over her breasts, then flipping her over into a most vulnerable position while he dried her backside. When he was finished he crawled onto the bed, looking deeply into her eyes. She was so drained, completely vulnerable to him, but still so determined to resist him. But he detected a hint of fear that he had seen before, a fear he did not quite understand. He pushed the madness back, looking down at her with an expression she couldn't read. "Do not fear me, Sparrow," he murmured. "Fight me if you must, but don't not be afraid of me. You never feared me." He placed a small kiss on her lips, one so gentle it left her confused. "Sleep, Sparrow. Rest, so when the time comes you are able to do battle once more. You _are_ helpless in this state," he added with a smile.

Sparrow looked into his clear eyes, afraid to trust him, but she had no choice as sleep began to pull at her. It was too much. She couldn't fight him right now. All she could do was give in. But then, Reaver had known this all along.


	5. Inner War of Love

Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Fable... -_- se la vi. BUT I DO OWN THE SMALL POEM DOWN THERE NEAR THE END. ^_^ I wrote it myself, if you can figure out what it means, give me your theories.

Author's Memo: Okay, I know Reaver may seem a bit like a psychopathic asshole right now (which of course he is anyways, with or without my help ^_^) but don't worry, I'll be going easier on him soon. And Isa: ty very very much for the review of course, and of course Daniels is going to be pissed, and yes, Sparrow can use Will, but not very well. (To be honest I didn't use it much myself while playing the game, I mostly relied on my gun and, if I absolutely had to, my sword.) Since her Hero days she has fallen out of using it entirely, and the results could be unpredictable.

My hit count on this story is over 200 lol and only a handful of reviews. This makes me a sad panda. I put in more work with each chapter to make them longer and beefier and better than the last. A little word or two or opinion would be great =) I see so many people hitting my story, but I have no idea what you guys are thinking. I feel like an actor on a stage who can't see or hear the crowd. Are they cheering or booing and should I be getting ready to dodge rotten fruit?

* * *

Chapter Five

Inner War of Love

* * *

High above the quarterdeck a sole man stared expressionless at the fullness of the moon. Its was his night to be up here. It was not a duty he disliked, and the solitude gave him time to think. The cool night breeze cleared his mind and was a welcome relief after a day's work. But tonight he would have traded ten lashes to be below deck, sound asleep and oblivious to the impassioned cries of the only woman he had ever truly loved. They tugged at his heart, and maybe even his soul, though he pretended to ignore them. There wasn't enough left to his heart, or his soul for that matter, for her to tug at. He wouldn't let this get to him. But soon the cries took shape into the form of words... not words... a name... _Reaver_... and he found them harder to ignore. Each cry grew louder, each fall of that name from her lips pulled his thoughts back to her, until he found himself looking over his shoulder, glancing down at the open window of the Captain's quarters. He could see very little from this vantage point, but found himself glaring at the offending space anyways. He could almost see her flushed face before his eyes, her soft lips crying in ecstasy as she looked up at him through sultry, heavy lidded eyes. He could hear that same voice crying out his own name as he took her, even though he'd never had the chance to make love to her before she'd disappeared from his life. The image only furthered his frustration.

He had avoided seeking Sparrow out during the nights, and not without some difficulty. He _wanted_ to hear her voice, to watch her eyes, to rescue her from her plight and become _her_ hero. Shaking his head impatiently, he tried once more to thrust the idea from his mind. Ever since she had asked him for his help, the scenario had been building inside his mind. She would realize she needed him, she would regret all they had missed out on, she would fall into his arms and beg him to forgive her, to love her... they would be bound body and soul, as he'd always believed they should be... Abruptly he was broken from his imaginings by another sharp cry coming from below, and he angrily turned away from the window, disgusted with himself. "Get a hold of yourself, Kinkaid."

He was too old for such fanciful notions, and Sparrow had made her true feelings for him clear a lifetime ago. The simple act of rescuing her and risking the wrath of the Pirate King was not going to change anything. Except he might get a bullet between his eyes.

Foolishness. That's exactly what he was. A foolish old man, still desperately in love. All these years he dreamed of finding her again. What did he think was going to happen? She would run into his arms and beg his forgiveness? Now, too late, he realized he should have stayed as far away as possible. Should have avoided her like a plague. But here he was, miles out to sea, stranded with her, drowning in memories, pulled under by desire, and hounded by her cries as the Pirate King wore down her defenses, trying to coerce her into his bed. And it was only a matter of time...

Foolishness.

* * *

The Pirate watched her sleeping, illuminated in the soft moonlight. She was deep under, her breathing even and slow. He had removed the sheets from her as she fell asleep some time ago, and was simply content to lay there watching the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, occasionally allowing his eyes to drift up to her face. She looked peaceful for a change, her swollen lips slightly curved into a smile. _Why is she smiling_? He would like to think that smile was for him, and he would have boasted about it if she were to awaken. But deep down, he knew that smile was reserved for her dreams. Absently, his finger traced along the high curve of her cheekbone. _Sparrow... If you let me love you_, _will you dream of me_? His finger made a light trail down over her chin and throat, her shoulder, and down her arm. His eyes followed, and he became distracted by her wrist.

Lifting it to his eyes, he saw that her skin showed evidence of rough treatment. _Have I done this to her_? he wondered. _The rope_... _the shackles_... Suddenly, he felt his eyes narrowing and brought her delicate wrist to his lips, leaving gentle kisses over the raw skin. _I will need to be more careful with her_, he told himself. He knew the further they got from the Shadow Court, the faster their influence would fade from him. _I am Reaver_. _I am not a toy for the Shadow Court_.

Carefully, he brought her other wrist to his lips, giving it the same gentle kisses and inhaling her scent. He could feel the darkness responding inside him, urging him to ravish her, to shackle her to his bed and keep her there until he had sated his need for her. _She will learn to enjoy being a toy for the Pirate King_, _and when I eventually leave her_, _she will be unable to find another to match me_. A dark smile twisted his lips, and he gently pulled her slender body closer to his, nuzzling her wild mane of hair; it was still slightly damp. He inhale her scent deeper, and felt his whole body tighten in anticipation, but still he did not touch her, though his hands trembled with the need to feel her, to burn his touch into her. _I will not_. _Reaver does not ravish women_, _I have no need_. Women came crawling to him, begging for his touch. But... _Not this one._

He frowned, tilting her face up to his to study her features, trying to puzzle out her meaning.

"Why do you not crawl to me, Sparrow?" he asked her. "I offer you pleasure beyond what any man will ever give you. Beyond what I will ever offer another man or woman. I will make sure you learn the proper way to scream the name Reaver. No woman will ever be loved the way I will love you. Why will you not beg, Sparrow?"

She offered him no answer as she slept soundly and unaware. He kissed her chastely; it was almost a plea as he feathered his lips back and forth over hers. Again, she denied him an answer, her soft lips passive beneath his own. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat, but again he pushed back the darkness.

A seductive voice saturated my mind. _If she truly is your toy_,_ great Reaver_,_ then it is no wrong to take her when you please_.

The Pirate shook his head. _No_, _I need her to come crawling to me_. _I need her to need me_.

_Her lips cry no_, the voice said,_ but her body screams yes_._ It has happened before_,_ and it is easily solved_._ Just once_,_ mighty Reaver_,_ that is all it will take_._ Take her innocence and drown her in sin_._ She will forget all about this silly idea of resisting you_,_ and she will be yours to possess until you desire her no more_.

The Pirate's hand moved before his eyes, sliding over the tender skin of her belly, upward to cup her breast, marveling as it filled my hand, but then he abruptly jerked away from her, as though burned. Trembling with the need to take her, he force himself from the bed. The Shadows fought him, pulling him back to her sleeping, vulnerable body, but Reaver was stronger. He forced himself away from the bed and turned away from her, unable to breathe. A heat was building inside him, but he held on to a control he didn't even know he had. _I am not he_, _the weak fool twisted by the Shadow Court_. _I am Reaver_!

The heat built to a crescendo and erupted inside his chest, forcing the Pirate to fall to his knees, a hiss escaping his teeth as darkness seeped from his very skin like smoke. A single lesser Shadow took shape before him, hovering, a formless cloud of black vapor with two glowing red pits that resembled eyes. It looked past his shoulder to Sparrow, and, on instinct, the Pirate edged closer to her, placing himself between her and the Shadow.

He hissed into the darkness. Those soulless eyes returned to him, burning with hate and lust, challenging him, promising retribution. But Reaver knew it to be an empty threat. He was a part of the Shadows; two more remained twisting inside his soul. This single one was no threat to him. Without another glance at Sparrow, the Shadow fled from the room, disappearing through the open window.

The Pirate sighed, turning back to his little Sparrow, still asleep and untroubled. Content with himself, he lay next to her, not touching her but still close enough to feel her warm breath on his skin. "Soon, little Sparrow," he promise. "Very soon you will come to me."

* * *

_Lust and hate_,_ jealousy_,_ rage_,

_The Shadow is lost in the night_,

_Released from Skill_'_s cage_,

_Dancing with Lilith in the cold salty air_,

_Calling out to a lone, broken heart_.

"_I will make it right_,"

_the Shadow vows_, "_give me your despair_."

* * *

Sparrow was alone when she awoke. At first, she was stunned, and her eyes darted around the cabin, checking and rechecking that she was indeed alone. She sat up and looked out the windows. The sun was shining, and the salty breeze that blew into the cabin was warm and seductive. If it weren't for Reaver, she would be happy to be at sea. As it was, she would much rather be on her own ship. She saw that her clothes were gone. Instead there was a peculiar robe laid out for her. The fabric was sage-green and very light and airy. It floated around her as she slipped the two pieces on. The top was a short beaded vest that left her arms, stomach, and the top of her chest bare, and after looking into the full-length mirror, it saw that the underside of her breasts were just visible too. The bottom was a skirt that wrapped several times around her, but was sheer enough that her legs could be seen through it. She blushed when she looked at her reflection. It had been many years since she had worn such frivolous garments, but she couldn't see anything else to wear. The cupboards and cabinets were locked, and Reaver left nothing else lying around.

Before leaving the inner cabin she snatched one of the thin, gold cords holding the bed hangings to their posts and used it to pull her hair back, trying it at the base of her neck. Once in the outer cabin, the first thing to greet her sight was Reaver, though at first she did not recognize him. He was wearing still stranger clothes. Loose white trousers and a simple white robe that he left open, exposing his bare chest. Against the white his bronze skin appeared even darker, and she stared at him for a second.

"Good morning, lovely Sparrow," he said by way of greeting.

"Good morning?" she said. "Look at me. There's nothing good about _this_."

Reaver regarded her in serious silence, then said, "Oh, I don't know, Sparrow darling, I though it would look quite beautiful on you, and I was right."

Before she could say anything else, he cut her off. "Do sit down and have something to eat. I want to talk to you and I surely can't do that unless that charming mouth of yours is otherwise occupied."

Sparrow stared at him. There was nothing suggestive about his tone, yet the words did not sit right with her. Nonetheless, she assumed a seat at the table and watched him pace around the room, barely noticing what she ate. Reaver did not seem inclined to speak immediately, but she waited, until finally, "I think this has all gotten off on the wrong foot."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"This situation," Reaver said. "You are here, but I have no wish to use you for manual labor or to bully you about. I have warm, hard, sun-tanned muscle around here for that." He shot her a grin, then continued on. "I don't want you callousing your beautiful hands on the deck of my ship, and there is no reason for you to cower before me like a slave. You are my prisoner, but also my guest. Could we not get on... amicably?"

Sparrow froze in her seat. Reaver wanted to call a truce? Just what game was he playing now? "Let me get this straight..." she said slowly. "I'm still your prisoner, but you want to get along?"

"Yes," Reaver said, looking pleased that she understood. "All this silly squabbling, it gets tiresome. You're not a deck hand. You're a lovely woman and all I want is to treat you like one," he said.

"Well, all I want is to go back to Bloodstone, but that doesn't seem to matter," she pointed out bluntly.

Reaver smiled. "_Une action faite par moi contre ma volonté_... An action made by me against my will."

Sparrow stared at him. Was he trying to tell her holding her captive wasn't his choice? "Another game, Reaver?"

"Everything is a game, lovely," he said. "We shall play many games, you and I."

"You can't keep me like this," she said. "People aren't toys."

Reaver placed a finger to her lips. "Then that shall be our game. I will prove to you that you are my toy, and should I succeed in wooing you into my bed, then you will stay with me, until I set you free. And if I don't... I will take you home when we leave Samarkand.'

"So, assuming you're done with all the hard work, I expect you to eat and join me above deck when you're finished, to take care of anything I need. Do not keep me waiting long."

Sparrow stared after him long after he was gone, pondering his sudden change in attitude. He was determined to play his games with her. Perhaps it would be as simple as that. Or perhaps this was merely a ploy to throw her off balance. A way to get her to let her guard down. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. No, around Reaver, that wasn't possible. He was the most cut-throat pirate she had ever met, and she'd met and sentenced some truly dubious characters. She must always be careful to watch her step. The Thief was always looking for his chance.


	6. Poise and Pursuit

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable or Fable 2, nay, not even Fable 3.

Author's Note: First order of business: *sniffs rose, smiles and tucks it behind her ear before nibbling on bamboo stalk* Thank you StephyT and Isa ^_^ I'm a much happier panda. Second order of business: Thank you thank you for each review =) I got some decent sleep and have been able to brainstorm again, so I'm chugging along again with new ideas. ISA: Thank you very much, I'm so happy to see someone thinking so deeply about my story =) and your categorization of my story elements actually helped me refocus on where I'm going with this. Not that I actually know where yet, but it helped me get in touch with my characters again. I was kinda idling there for a bit, but a few hours sleep and your wonderful review got me going again. STEPHYT: I was relieved to see a new name on my review page ty for taking the time. And thank you for the rose. ^_^ TWILIGHTMARKEDRAVEN: lol I have many vague plans for this little game, and I'm reasonably certain you will love it. CRAZED-AUTHORESS: I'm pleased you think my Sparrow is different from other Sparrow's. I definitely intended for her to be different.

* * *

Chapter Six

Poise and Pursuit

* * *

Sparrow walked barefoot out on deck and into the bright sunshine. The sky was a cloudless, wistful blue and the breeze pleasantly warm. The first thing she saw before her was Reaver standing at the wheel, his back to her. She stopped for a moment to watch him. His burnished brown hair, lighted with gold streaks from the sun and always impeccably styled, was now tossed wildly about in the wind. He had seemingly done away with his robe, leaving the golden skin of his chest, shoulders, arms, and back exposed to the sea and sun. Absently, she let her eyes travel over him, freely looking her fill for the first time. She noticed immediately how tall he was, though she blushed for a minute, reminding herself that she had always known this. His shoulders and back were straight and strong, but a man of his arrogance would never stoop or slouch. Her eyes traveled down to his waist, glancing over his slim hips and firm buttocks, stopping to admire his legs. They were long, and built for strength as well as speed. As her eyes drifted back up, she heard a light chuckle in the breeze and her gaze darted up to meet Reaver's laughing eyes. How had he known she was there? He crooked a finger at her, beckoning her over. Blushing furiously at being caught staring, she came to him, keeping her eyes downcast. As she reached him, he took her chin and forced her to look up.

"If you admire the goods so much, love, feel free to try them. I'm certain they'll be to your liking," he promised with a sensual smile. Flustered, she jerked away and stepped out of his reach.

"Is physical perfection a part of your pact?" she scoffed.

He laughed but let her escape him, for now. "At least you admit I'm perfect," he replied smugly.

She opened her mouth but snapped it shut, unsure what to say to that. He took advantage of her temporary speechlessness. "Feel free to relax, my pet. You've been working rather hard. Time to settle back and forget all those boring responsibilities."

She frowned at his endearment but did as he suggested, giving him a wide berth as she passed him. Finally away from his overwhelming influence, she noticed her surroundings and saw for the first time the ogling she was receiving from the crew. Some gave her suggestive, toothy smiles. Embarrassed, she realized it had to be these ridiculous clothes Reaver had put her in. Couldn't he have given her something normal to wear? This was so flashy and impractical. She would definitely have to talk to him about this.

Holding her head high, she walked amongst the crew, ignoring their rude stares. Mentally she compared them to her own austere, disciplined sailors. Many of them were dark skinned, some with slanted eyes. Some wore red scarves or gold earrings, or bits of shiny in their coarse, unruly hair. All of them were shirtless, most wearing simple, cutoff trousers tied at the waist. Each man was armed with a pistol and some sort of sword. The blades were kinds she had never seen before. Some were long and straight, made from thin metal sharpened on both sides. Peculiar symbols or designs of dragons and other powerful creatures were often etched into the steel. Other swords were wider and curved, simple in the blade, but with hilts decorated with elegant etchings or colorful jewels. Thoughtfully she admired these weapons, wondering if these had originated in Samarkand or another continent perhaps.

It was an hour later when she stood peacefully, watching the hypnotic waves of the open sea, when Reaver called her name. With a resigned sigh, she climbed up to the quarterdeck to realize he'd had a velvet topped lounging chair brought out on deck and placed before the mizzenmast, and was already spread out upon it, allowing Alex to take the helm.

"What do you need?" she asked, noticing Alex's gaze on her from the corner of her eye. She paid him no mind, keeping her eyes on Reaver.

"I want some berries. Go down and see if Cook still has any fresh ones," the Pirate drawled. Sparrow nodded and went below, arriving in the deserted galley. Relieved to be away from all the staring, she looked for the cook, but no one was around. Impatient, she went into the kitchen to find them herself. In a woven barrel she found a bunch of red grapes still reasonably preserved.

Back up on deck, she stood staring at the Pirate King incredulously. "You don't need me to feed them to you," she sputtered. "You're perfectly capable of feeding yourself."

Reaver smirked. "Now, now, Sparrow, the deal was that you would take care of my needs. Whether I am capable of doing them myself or not is moot." When she didn't move, he patted space next to him on the lounger. Resigned, she perched herself by his side, holding the plate of grapes on her lap. Reaver crossed his arms behind his head, propping himself up and holding his lips open expectantly. With slender fingers she picked a grape from the bunch and placed the fruit on his tongue. A small hitch caught in her throat when he closed his lips before she could withdraw her hand. Gently, he nibbled on the tips of her fingers. She jerked her hand away and his eyes held a mischievous spark, teasing her. Pushing down the strange flutter in her belly, she continued to feed him, and soon it became a new game, she trying to pull her fingers away quickly as he sucked and nibbled on the tips of them each time he brought them near his lips.

As the grapes disappeared, she noticed his eyes would occasionally flicker to something just behind her, and finally she looked over her shoulder. Her mouth fell open as she saw what she could not believe she had not noticed until now. A full figurehead of Reaver protruded from the mizzenmast, a roguish smirk in the weathered, wooden lips.

"Erm, Reaver, isn't a figurehead usually on the bow of the ship?" she queried, placing the last grape in his mouth.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes, and there is one on the bow, but I can't see it all that well from the deck, so I had another one placed here," he explained as though it was the most obvious conclusion. Rolling her eyes, she rose to take the plate below, but Reaver took her wrist in his own.

"Wait, there is something else I need you to do," he said in a tone she didn't entirely trust.

"Yes? And what might that be?" she asked apprehensively.

"Go stand in front of the figurehead," he said with a smirk. Confused, she set the plate aside and did as he asked. Standing before the figurehead, she turned to face him. He smiled and rose from the lounger, coming to stand in front of her. "Move closer, so you're back against it," he instructed. She did so and Reaver moved her a few inches to her left. Taking her right hand, he brought it up above her head and wrapped it behind the neck of his carved likeness. He then took her other hand and draped it across her bare belly, her curved fingers resting along her opposite hip, then turned her head to the right so her cheek rested against the wood. As a finishing touch, he removed the gold cord restraining her hair, allowing is to cascade over her shoulder to be teased by the wind. "I prefer your hair like this. You will leave it down for me from now on." With a satisfied smile, he took a step back and nodded. "That's perfect." Without another word he laid back on the lounger again, his blue-green eyes watching her lazily.

Confused, she watched him from the corner of her eye and asked, "Reaver, what am I doing standing here like this?"

He smiled. "Posing."

She frowned. "How long am I expected to stand here?"

He merely shrugged and she seethed inwardly. She should be back in Bloodstone, cleaning up the mess from the last tropical storm, not standing here pretending to be apart of a bloody figurehead! Just what went on in this man's head? She shook her head but held her position, trying to ignore the burning the Pirate's eyes left on her skin. It was almost a half-hour before his eyes began to drift shut, until finally his head lolled back and he fell asleep.

Sparrow waited, but when he didn't move she lowered her arm. He still didn't move, and she assumed he was asleep enough. Stretching, she walked over to the guardrail and leaned against it to watch the sun move lower over the horizon. How long had she been on the ship? The days almost felt like they were blended together. Was everything well in Bloodstone? She knew she could count on Mister Daniels and Sedgewick to take care of matters until she returned, but she couldn't stay away for too long.

So caught up in her musings, she didn't hear the light footsteps that came up behind her until the form of Alex leaned up against the rail next to her. She was so startled she nearly jumped in surprised, but she managed to keep up her passive mask, rolling one eye in his direction before looking away, giving him no other acknowledgment.

"Sparrow," he greeted shortly, looking out over the water the same as she. They stood in silence for several minutes as the sky slowly started to become streaked with shades of pink and orange before he spoke again. "I've been thinking it over, and if you still want my help... you have it."

Sparrow gave him a strange look. "Why the change of mind?" she asked.

Alex shrugged and remained silent for several minutes. Finally he said, "I've been thinking about joining a new crew for a while now. It's only a matter of time before Reaver shoots me out of boredom."

Sparrow couldn't help but agree, yet something churned inside her, telling her that wasn't the real reason. "Are you sure that's all?" she gently pressed, keeping her tone neutral. The look Alex gave her told her she wasn't as successful as she would have liked.

"Yes, that's all," he said, sounding impatient. She was slightly stunned by his tone and looked away from him haughtily. "I'm offering you my help, something _you_ asked for," he pressed. "Or is it you no longer need my help? Struck a deal with the devil, have you? Or have you merely developed a misplaced soft spot for the Pirate King?"

Sparrow blushed. "Don't be ridiculous. I would never be foolish enough to give any part of my heart, much less anything else, to Reaver for my freedom."

Alex looked at her until finally she turned to him, looking up into the intensity of his silver eyes. "I don't need to tell you what you already know, Sparrow," he said low. "You'll lose his game, no matter how good you think you are. His games are designed for him to win. Every time."

Wordlessly, he walked away and resumed the helm, and she watched him for a moment as he steered the ship with sure hands. Could he be right? No, she couldn't afford to believe that. She had to be the one in control or she wouldn't stand a chance.

* * *

_Back at Bloodstone Manor_...

Commander Daniels was in a fury as he wore a path along the richly grained wood that was the floor of Sparrow's study. Sedgewick, the stalwart, gallant, even-tempered Sheriff, looked on at his friend, and ofttimes pupil; while he was equally as riled, he was much better at controlling his emotions. The sailor was cursing vilely, somehow managing to look quite intimidating despite the heavy bandaging on his shoulder. Or perhaps more so for it.

"It's been five days, Gresham! When are we goin' te go after 'er?" Daniels spat, stopping before the large map. His brogue was so thickened because of his anger that he was hard to understand. "Look 'ere. I 'ave already plotted their most likely course. The bloody fool isna likely to stop anywhere on Albion soil, or the Capt'n would have made her escape. So we 'ave te assume he's gone abroad again." Slamming his fist down on the wooden desk, he pinned the Sheriff with a deadly glare. "Five days and not a sign nor message from 'er. If we wait any longer, we may nev'r catch up te 'im."

Sedgewick stroked his mustache thoughtfully. Sparrow had given them no orders to pursue her. In fact, she had seemed rather adamant on keeping her men and the townsfolk out of the altercation. If Sparrow had given herself up that way, then he could easily assume the man was a threat to be reckoned with. But on the other hand, that meant his superior was in danger, and if she had not escaped her captor, then she would likely need their assistance.

"Very well, Daniels, ready _The Rose_. We'll leave with the evening tide." He paused before continuing. "I have my misgivings, but you're right. And our lady may need us. Make sure the ship and crew are battle ready," he cautioned. With a grim smile, Daniels nodded and strode from the office. Sedgewick sent up a quick prayer, knowing how little chance they would stand against the King or Pirates.

Hours later, after setting up his most capable Deputy to look after the town in their absence, Sedgewick boarded the ship and stood next to Commander Daniels at the helm. As night closed around the world, _The Rose_ and her crew departed Bloodstone, chasing full tilt after its lady and the Thief who dared to steal her away.

* * *

The moon was high as Sparrow stood silently by the window facing out to the deck. Sleep had not come easy to her tonight. With passive eyes, she watched the moonlight playing on the waves, turning the crests white on the black water. The Pirate King slept soundly beside her. It had taken some doing, after he had fallen asleep holding on to her, to remove herself from the bed. Before falling asleep he had insisted she massage him. She blushed even now at the memory.

_Reaver dropped his trousers to the floor, stepping over them and leaving them where they lay as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sparrow blushed furiously, refusing to look at him as she collected his discarded clothes and added them to a basket._

"_Sparrow_,"_ Reaver drawled_,_ laying face-down on the bed_, "_be a dear and massage me_?"

_Knowing it was not really a request_,_ she had climbed atop the bed_,_ kneeling next to him while she worked out the tension in his lean muscles_._ Unsatisfied_,_ he had insisted she climb atop him_,_ claiming she would have a better angle to work from_. _With exaggerated resignation_,_ she had perched herself atop his high_,_ firm buttocks with her knees straddling his waist and her skirt pooled high around her hips_._ Trying not to focus on the feeling of his bare bottom pressed so intimately against the sensitive place between her thighs, she leaned forward to reach his shoulders_;_ at least he was quiet and content_,_ making no further comment than the occasional sigh and moan as her nimble fingers soothed him_.

_After twenty minutes she thought he would have fallen asleep_, _his breathing was so soft and deep_,_ but as soon as she moved to climb off of him he had turned over_,_ so she found herself straddling his hips with him smiling lazily up at her_._ Despite the sheer fact that his aroused member was now between them_,_ feeling impossibly hard against her soft flesh_,_ he did nothing more than pull her down atop him and rest her head under his chin_,_ his arms snaking around her_._ His breathing became even slower and soon he really had fallen asleep_._ Learning from experience_,_ Sparrow waited another full twenty minutes before moving again_,_ taking another careful ten minutes to remove herself from the Thief_'_s grasp_.

And so here she stood, lost in thoughts of her 'game' with Reaver, and Alex's subsequent warning. She firmly believed him, that Reaver's games were designed for him to win, but the way she saw it, she didn't have many options at the moment. Perhaps once they reached land somewhere, she would be able to come up with something better, but for now things had improved. So long as she remained in control of the situation, she should be able to best the Pirate, and then escape him and make her way home when the time came.

The sound of movement behind her pulled her abruptly out of her speculations, and she turned to see Reaver tossing on the large bed, throwing the sheets and pillows askew. He was muttering, and without thinking, she moved closer to him, hitching up her skirt and climbing up on the bed to place her hands on his heated skin. "Reaver? Reaver, wake up. It's only a drea-"

Her words were cut off as a pair of strong hands reached out and grabbed her. With a cry of shock she found herself on her back, the steel barrel of a pistol touching her temple. Reaver knelt over her, nothing more than a shadowed silhouette in the darkness, and he was settled between her legs with her skirt up around her waist. Alarmed, she opened her mouth to swear, to yell, to snap him out of it in any way possible, but he cut her off, his hot lips fused with hers, his other hand encircling the bare flesh of her thigh. The kiss was deep, almost violent, but held a strange desperation that ripped a moan from the back of her throat. He caught it in his mouth, ravishing her lips over and over until she was breathless and her mind was spinning hazily. At the sound of her whimpers he finally pulled away, leaving mere inches between them.

"Sparrow," she heard his ragged whisper.

"Reaver," she breathed.

"They're all gone, Sparrow. All of them. Gone." His voice held something she had never heard in it before. It was not arrogant or gloating. It was the empty, broken, the voice of a man long without hope.

"Shh..." she soothed. "Yes," she said, not fully understanding what he was talking about, but having a vague idea. "They are gone. A long time ago."

Reaver hung his head, nestled in the crook of her neck.

"Don't leave," he breathed huskily. "Stay, Sparrow..."

"Its all right," she crooned, stroking his soft hair with her fingers. "Sleep. Just sleep."

With a sigh he rolled off of her, shoving the pistol back under the pillow and pulling her body close to his, holding her tightly as his breathing evened out, and he was soon sound asleep. Sparrow looked up into his sleeping face, illuminated ever so slightly by the moonlight. So, Reaver still had the nightmares. Indeed, she suspected he always would. He would never escape what he had done. With a sad heart, she realized he truly was condemned. By his own hand, but that did nothing to console her.

With a jerk of her head, she scolded herself. She shouldn't need consoling. She had done nothing wrong. Reaver had made his decisions long before she had even been born. And it wasn't as if she could do anything to save him, even if she wanted to. Even if he would let her. But then... why did the thought seem to put a stone in her heart?

She looked up at him through her lashes, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Reaver, I cannot stay," she whispered. "I was not forged in the flames of Skorm and tempered in the light of Avo to become nothing more than your personal plaything."

Frowning at herself, she rolled over as best she could in his arms, startled when she felt the tips of her fingers brush against cold steel. The pistol. Reaver slept with a pistol under his pillow. A weapon. Right at her fingertips. It didn't have the extravagant feel of the _Dragonstomper _._48_. No, this felt simpler. Like a plain, run of the mill pistol. Confused, she gently retrieved the gun, eying Reaver cautiously as she held it up to the light, looking closely. Where had this gun come from? Why was it so significant that Reaver slept with it and not with his precious _Dragonstomper_? Apart of her thought it didn't matter. It was here, it was loaded, and Reaver was asleep. She should take it, hide it, use it, do something with it. She would likely need it if she was called upon to make a hasty escape. But Reaver would notice it's absence.

With a sigh, she returned it to its original position. She would need a better plan than that. She needed to keep her eyes open for opportunities to steal a weapon. Such a thing might have to wait until the time actually came to flee, but still, if she could prepare, she would.

Slowly, Sparrow allowed herself to drift away, putting aside her worries for one night. She would be able to do nothing until she reached land. She would just need to be patient until then.

* * *

The next morning, Reaver displayed no sign of remembering his dream. Sparrow pried her sleepy eyes open to feel a fully awake and aroused Pirate kneeling between her thighs; he was leaning forward, his face buried between her bare breasts as he gently nuzzled each one, alternately kissing and licking at her skin. For a moment, the sensual feel of his soft lips and hair trailing over her skin made her forget every reason why she ought to shove him away, and instead she stretched her body out sleepily, shivering as his fingers trailed up over her stomach to and cup the underside of both globes and lift them to his mouth. On instinct, she threaded her fingers into his golden-brown locks, closing her eyes as his tongue trailed a wet path from the underside of her breast all the way up to the peak of her nipple, which he flicked with his tongue; her back arched sharply off the bed, pressing her hips closer to his and lifting her breasts in offering to his diabolical lips. Emboldened, he repeated the action, flicking and licking the small, pink bud until it stood erect against his tongue, until nonsensical whimpers and gasps poured from Sparrow's lips. Smiling wickedly, he did not take the bud into his mouth, but switched his attentions to her other breast, giving it the same treatment, until both nipples were swollen and sensitive and the beautiful woman beneath him was writhing in a haze of desire.

Her skin felt so sensitive that she wanted to scream; liquid heat burned through her blood, pooling between her thighs, until her mind was a blank haze of pleasure and need, and her hands were tugging at his hair and her back was arching, lifting her breasts to him in an effort to tempt him, wordlessly pleading with him to end her torment. When at last he closed his lips around one pert nipple and suckled, she cried out in such ecstasy the Pirate almost came undone and ravished her in that moment. Each tug of his lips sent a tremor of pleasure low into her belly, where an intense heat began to build, making her so mindless the Thief knew she would succumb to his every desire.

Slowly, he slid his fingers between her slick folds, groaning when her heat burned his fingertips. "You're ready for me, sweeting," he whispered against her throat. "Tell me you want me, and I will show you true heaven."

_Yes_,_ yes_, a voice inside her cried. She almost couldn't remember why it was so important she resist him, why she must deny herself... but when she looked down into his translucent-blue eyes, saw the dark possession within them, she shook her head in denial.

"No..." she moaned quietly, deliberately pulling herself away from him. "Reaver... I can't... I won't do this..."

Chuckling quietly, the Pirate removed himself from her, though it pained him to do so. "Very well, my lovely. Perhaps tomorrow, hmm? A woman as sensual as yourself can only resist for so long."

When he was gone, she rolled over in the bed and buried her face into the pillows, overcome with shame and self-loathing. Why did he have to have such an effect on her? Even now, her body cried out for him, until she almost forsook her pride and called him back to her. Stubbornly, she folded her arms over her breasts and pulled her knees up, trying to still the burning ache inside her. Damn that Pirate for taking advantage of her. He'd said he wouldn't make this easy on her, and he was proving himself right.

* * *

For a week their pattern repeated, Sparrow taking care of his needs diligently while he teased and taunted her mercilessly. At night he would hold her captive in his bed with his arms alone, their naked bodies pressed together while a slow, burning ember grew hotter inside her. She fell to sleep each night biting her lips so that she wouldn't not moan her need aloud, with her hands folded tightly together that they would not reach out to caress his golden skin.

Meanwhile, Alex carefully avoided her, but Sparrow did not seek him out. If he truly did intend to help her, it was best not to draw any attention to him, and if she couldn't trust him, it was best he not get in her way. But still, he watched her, and at times she thought she caught something in his gaze, or they way he watched her, that made her feel uneasy.

_Just what is _his_ game_? she wondered. Though most days he watched her without expression, sometimes she swore she caught a flicker that reminded her of the old Alex, the sweet young man who had mistakenly fallen in love with her. But this always preceded a change in his demeanor, and the unease would return.

As she stood watching the ocean waves, contemplating and planning, the strong breeze teasing her long tresses, strong arms wrapped around her from behind and roughened fingertips stroked the undersides of her breasts.

"Stop that," she hissed, ignoring the flames that burned her skin at the touch of his fingers as she twisted out of his embrace. Reaver merely smiled, allowing her retreat. "What do you need now?" she demanded, momentarily annoyed at his interruption.

"I thought you might like to know we'll be reaching land soon," he said, and her annoyance evaporated.

"Land?" she asked. "Where? What port?"

"Sadrhi, city of the Conqueror. It's a grand city at the edge of the sea. I promise, you've never seen anything like it," he boasted, leaning out over the railing.

Sparrow frowned. "Why are we going there?"

"I have several acquaintances there, not the least of which is a Prince Rajeev. An admirable fellow. He throws parties almost every night, and anyone who is anyone makes a point to attend," he said with a sly smile.

"Are you telling me we sailed across the sea to go to a party?" Sparrow glowered.

"Well, of course, I did say you would be taking a break from all those boring responsibilities, didn't I? What better place to have fun than at the best parties on this side of Samarkand?"

Rolling her eyes, Sparrow reminded herself she should just be happy to land again at long last. "When will we get there?"

"We should sail in tomorrow afternoon," Reaver said, pushing himself away from the rail. "I hunger. Fetch me dinner, would you? And yours. Bring it to my cabin. I have a new game in mind for us tonight." With nothing more than a wink, he swaggered away.

Sparrow watched him go for several silent, contemplative moments before ducking below deck. She'd need to find Alex. If he truly intended to help her, she needed to know. If he didn't, she needed to warn him to stay out of her way, maybe even leave the crew. Reaver would not take losing his game with a smile, that much she was certain.


	7. Never Bet Against the Devil

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable 1, 2, or 3, but you should know that by now.

Author's Word: dear TwilightMRaven, you have no idea just how good that party is going to be. I've been planning it out and adding to it and refining it for a few days and nights now and I have a wonderful imagination when it's allowed to sit and fester :D. Lol I'm actually concerned about certain bits being a bit too much for my readers, but we'll see when we get there, won't we ^_^. And as for _Mister_ Daniels, I have something _very_ special planned just for him. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. And to Crazed-Authoress: lol I think I actually felt my inner-Reaver cringe at your use of the word 'scared'. I know I'm insane for making this argument, but he wasn't _scared_. He was still in the throes of his nightmare, he wasn't aware of what he was saying. SO =P for you. Anyhoo, please pass my insanity off as me not taking my meds, and a side-effect from my glee at more than 450 hits. Not bad for how frequently I update I think. And now, a little treat for my readers. Let the game begin. ^_^

WARNING: Some adult content within. And by the way, I was a little hasty in posting this. I doubt I'll revise it though. I checked for errors manually 3 times and used grammatic-check and spell-check. Anyways, enjoy.

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Chapter Seven

Never Bet Against the Devil

* * *

It was with a feeling of disquiet that Sparrow entered the Pirate King's lair. Frowning, she realized immediately he wasn't in the outer cabin. The table was set, and she set down their plates before opening the door to the inner cabin and peeking inside. Reaver was not present there either, but the bath was filled and a new set of clothes were laid out alongside a strange game set upon the center of the bed. The board was black with three circles drawn upon it in gold, an inner, middle, and outer, divided into six sections. It looked much like a ship's wheel, but made no sense to her. The pieces were simple flat, round ivory and ebony stones, eleven of each, and polished until they shone, placed at each spot where lines intersected.

This must be the game Reaver had referred to, but they would be playing it in here? Frowning, she turned to the delicate clothing he had left out for her, lifting it from the ebony coverlet. It was the same foreign style Reaver called _sare,_ identical to her green outfit, but this was pure ivory trimmed with golden lace. Rolling her eyes at the decadence, she stripped down and quickly bathed herself, realizing, as she donned the wrapped ivory skirt, that it was secured with a thick chain of beaten gold wrapped around her hips. Stubbornly, she took another gold cord from the bed and tied back her hair before leaving the inner cabin. Reaver stood at the table, pouring two goblets of wine.

He smiled when he saw her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He, too, was groomed and clean, wearing a black _serwan_ robe trimmed with gold, that he left casually open, and loose black trousers. Sparrow immediately realized that together, they matched the small stones that would be used in tonight's game. Clearly, she was going to be playing as white, and he was black. It took only seconds for her to contemplate all the implications his choice held... white and black... light and dark... purity and corruption... good and evil...

When his impish gaze met hers, Sparrow almost took an instinctive step back. Reaver was up to something tonight, of that she was certain.

"Sparrow, my beauty, come and sit. Make yourself comfortable. Have a drink," Reaver invited with a smile. Sparrow took her seat, keeping cautious eyes on the Pirate. Reaver sat across from her, lifting his goblet to his lips with long, elegant fingers. Sparrow took this to mean hers was somewhat safe, having been poured before her eyes from the same bottle, so she took a tentative sip. They ate in silence for several moments, Reaver making his way steadily through the bottle of wine and even refilling her goblet twice, urging her to have more.

"You do look lovely, Sparrow," he murmured, watching her over the rim of his cup.

Sparrow felt her cheeks heat up at his compliments, but tried to sound displeased. "When do you think I could have my normal clothes back? This skirt is so fragile and impractical."

Reaver smiled wickedly. "Perhaps you can win them back."

"Win them back?" Sparrow asked with a frown, setting down her fork.

"Yes, during our little game tonight."

"You mean that board game placed so inconspicuously at the center of your bed?" Sparrow asked pointedly.

Reaver chuckled. "The board is simply a medium to the true game," he replied, standing from his chair and bringing the wine and a single goblet with them. He took her hand and she followed Reaver to the inner cabin, setting herself across from him on her side of the board.

"Have you played _Kate-Kati_?" he asked, fluffing a pillow and laying on his side, his head propped up by one crooked arm. Sparrow folded her legs under her demurely and shook her head. "The rules are quite simple. Each piece only moves one space in any direction, or jumps over another piece to capture it. You may chain jumps together to capture multiple pieces. Obviously, the one to capture all the opponent's stones is the winner."

"Sounds easy enough," Sparrow admitted. "Who goes first?"

"White plays first." Sparrow nodded and made her first move. The idea wasn't complicated, but Sparrow found she had to keep her eyes open for chances to capture the most stones while sacrificing very little. In a way, it was an old game for her, one she'd lived for years, one she had always been good at. At the end of the first round, she had won, and couldn't help a small smile of triumph. Reaver, however, let out an exaggerated yawn as he drank from their shared goblet.

"Bored?" she asked with a rare, mischievous smile. He stared, transfixed as he passed her the cup and she drank deeply.

"Well, it isn't as fun when you don't win anything... or have nothing to lose."

Sparrow tensed slightly. So, he was about to reveal his true game. "What did you have in mind?" she asked as casually as she could.

"How about a simple wager?" he asked, equally as nonchalant, but a hint of a smile hovered around his lips.

Sparrow paused in her hasty denial. Betting against a merciless knave like Reaver was risky business, but... she could stand to gain much.

"What could I possibly have to wager?" she asked. Reaver's smile deepened.

"I'm sure we'll come up with something," he said with a leer. When she looked ready to deny him, he said, "It doesn't have to be physical goods. Do be original, Sparrow," he teased. And then, after a slight pause, "Unless you're too afraid to take a little risk. Is it so bad to have a little fun?"

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Sparrow nodded despite her better judgement. "Very well, Reaver. You're on. What will we wager first?"

Reaver reset the board, sliding the shiny round stones back into their original places. "Legendary artifacts, perhaps? I do believe you have in your possession a legendary gem, Archon's Dream."

Sparrow's mouth unlatched and hung ajar for a moment before she snapped it shut. "How did you know about that?"

Reaver grinned. "Some years ago I happened to spend a night with a rather... _gifted_ archeologist. While I bought her several rounds of the strongest ale on-hand, she began to talk, said something about a filthy, _thieving_ Hero who had helped her locate a legendary gem, but made off with it instead of collecting the reward."

Sparrow blushed indignantly. "Oh, okay, I took it. But you should have seen the greed in that woman's eyes. After sending me schlepping all over Albion for _years_ hunting down clues and artifacts, she offered me a piddling fifty-thousand gold for a priceless gem she likely intended to sell to the highest bidder. So I left with the jewel and hid it."

"Oh, but not well enough, my lovely," he said, trailing his fingers down her arm to the signet ring she always wore on the middle finger of her right hand. It signified her status and responsibility as the Mayor of Bloodstone. Under the simple seal of a sparrow in flight, a fiery red stone gleamed up at them. It appeared at first glance to be a ruby, or even an exceptional garnet, but the Pirate was not fooled. "No mere ruby has the shine of vibrance of Archon's Dream."

Sparrow snatched her hand away, her skin tingling where his finger had traced. "What do you have that I would wager this against?"

"Go, look in there," he said, gesturing to one of the red, lacquered cabinets. Sparrow stood and pulled on a small, golden handle, revealing a long, slender, curved sword hanging against a black backdrop. Its blade shimmered with an aura of deep, ominous purple. The hilt was simple gold engraved with a dragon, its eyes beset with two lustrous emeralds. "A piece of the Old Tribes of Samarkand," Reaver said from directly behind her, making her spin around. "And, of course, a sample of the treasures to be had there by those daring enough to take them," he added with a dark smile, looking past her at the blade. Unnerved by his nearness, she half turned back to the sword. "The _Rohin Barhati_. It was a sword handed down through Samarkand royalty. It is light, unbreakable, with a single edge sharp enough to sever a single hair. But what is most fascinating is the augmentation. The legend says this sword will leave your purify your soul when you kill with it, as long as the kill is just. A blatant murder, however, will near destroy you."

"In other words, a weapon you would never weild," she said. Then, with a suspicious glance, she asked, "And how did you come by it?"

Smiling slyly, he returned to his place on the bed and said, "That's hardly part of the wager, now is it?"

Sparrow scowled but returned to her spot. "Very well, you're on. My gem against your blade."

Reaver watched with satisfaction as she made her first move, and later had the same peculiar smile as Sparrow retrieved the sword from the cabinet and sat admiring her newest treasure. Reaver poured them another goblet of wine. He passed it to her first, watching her lips devour the red liquid as he asked, "What shall we play for next?"

Sparrow thought for a moment as she eased into a plush pillow, relaxed as the wine warmed her blood and pleased with her victory. Reaching across the board, he placed his thumb against the corner of her lower lip, blotting away a drop of wine from her stained mouth. "The truth."

"The winner asks a question and the loser answers?"

"You take my meaning exactly," Sparrow confirmed with a smile.

"Agreed," Reaver said, and allowed Sparrow to make the first move. He played casually, almost bored, and in the end Sparrow took his last piece.

With a triumphant smile, she asked, "What is your real name?" She smiled at his surprised expression and sipped her wine before elaborating, "Before you became Reaver."

Reaver's face turned expressionless and he looked away, then looked back at her with a sly smile on his face. "Aiden." Sparrow nodded and passed him the goblet. He gently caressed her finger before taking it, placing his lips on the exact spot she had.

Looking down, somehow embarrassed with the new intimacy of knowledge, Sparrow said, "It's your choice next."

Reaver placed the goblet aside and said, "How about a request?" Her eyes jumped back to his and she frowned questioningly. "The winner asks the loser for one thing and the loser must acquiesce no matter the request," he clarified with a grin.

"Within reason," Sparrow hedged.

Reaver agreed and Sparrow took her move. Several minutes later as Reaver captured her last piece, he gently pushed the board aside and beckoned her nearer with one crooked finger. Slightly unbalanced from drink and with her heart pounding, she swallowed hard and came to kneel beside him. Letting his head fall back on the pillows, he took her delicate shoulders in his hands, pulling her down onto his chest. She settled her palms on his bare skin, a tremor going through her as she felt the heat radiating off him. He urged her down until her breasts were flush with his hard, lean muscles. Her stomach fluttered as she mulled over his request would be, but he did not leave her waiting.

"Kiss me, Sparrow," he murmured hoarsely, his eyes locked on her soft, wine-stained lips. Sparrow's breath caught in her throat, and subconsciously her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Reaver groaned in torment, one hand sliding up her exposed back to cup the back of her head as the other cradled her closer. Taking a steadying breath, Sparrow slowly inched her lips closer to his until she felt their exquisite warmth. Her lips fit his seamlessly, the heat instinctively making her gasp, and Reaver, being the pirate he is, took full advantage, fusing their lips together as he plundered her mouth. He felt a jolt straight down to his thickening shaft when her tongue eagerly met his. He groaned in response, his arm tightening around her as his hand crushed her hair, preventing her escape as he desperately ravished her mouth. His blood sang when her response was to wrap her arms around his neck, her lips turning aggressive. With a growl he rolled, trapping her beneath him as his tongue repeatedly interlocked with hers, her taste inflaming him until he forgot all about their game, until his thoughts turned to mush and his hands cupped her face, holding her prisoner until he could bring himself to pull away.

Her eyes stared up at him, wide with shock as she tried to catch her breath. Smiling in satisfaction, he kissed her gently before he rolled off of her, returning to his original place. Her head turned to watch him, momentarily dazed as she tried to collect her wits.

"Another round?" he asked casually, as though he had been doing nothing more strenuous than admiring himself in the mirror.

Sparrow turned onto one side, scowling, and suddenly determined to get something from him. "Clothes."

Reaver smiled mischievously. "Very well, for every three stones you capture, I will let you chose any article of clothing from my wardrobe. But," he added slyly, his eyes roaming significantly down her slender frame, "for every three pieces I capture, I will take something from you."

Sparrow held her breath, a strange shiver going down her spine. She told herself it had everything to do with apprehension and nothing to do with the thought of Reaver's hands on her again. "Very well, if that is what it takes. But if I win the round, you must return all the clothes you remove."

"And if you lose the round, you must forfeit whatever clothing you have remaining, if any, for the rest of the night," he countered smugly. As Sparrow nodded and watched Reaver take the first move, she felt a tension rising within her. Moments later she was in possession of three stones, Reaver having taken one, and she relaxed only slightly as she peered into his wardrobe, finding her trousers before retaking her position. Three moves later and Reaver was in possession of two more stones. With glittering eyes, he pulled her close and reached behind her. Sparrow quivered but gasped in surprise when she felt a tug at her hair. The cord. Reaver pulled it free with a teasing smile, allowing her red-and-gold locks to spill around her and onto the bed.

"Much better," he praised. Sparrow scowled at him and made her move, and minutes later was in possession of her boots again. In one move Reaver took three more of her stones with gloating superiority. He brought her close again, allowing nimble fingers to trace down between her breasts and pull the cords securing her vest. Sparrow almost moaned as he let it fall open, exposing her warm skin to the chilled air. Her pink nipples hardened in response, grabbing Reaver's attention. He filled his vision with her, briefly allowing his fingers to trace the exposed curves. She trembled under his touch, heat flaring inside her at the memory of his lips on her breasts, but the Pirate resisted the temptation. He slid the scrap of fabric down her arms, tossing the vest out of her reach as he invited her to take her next move.

Sparrow sat through the next few moves, self-conscious and sensing the tension filling the air. Reaver watched her intently, the faintest flicker of darkness in those blue orbs as he loved her body with his eyes, his stares so intense she felt a burning beneath her skin that spread to her breasts and down between her legs. She nearly groaned in response. What was the matter with her? Why did she want Reaver to touch her? This selfish, devious, ruthless pirate? She had to keep her head in the game. She couldn't understand why, but she felt something tremendous teetered on the pinnacle of this microcosm, and if she lost her head, she wouldn't stand a chance of escaping him. Two moves later Sparrow was in possession of a large, billowing shirt of pure black, which she was forced to set aside. Facing Reaver, she watched a slow, sensual smile curve his lips as he took three more stones, yielding only two.

With steady hands he unwrapped the skirt from her, the delicate ivory silk falling away to reveal long slender legs topped by red curls. Sparrow looked down at herself, blushing. She sat before the Pirate King wearing nothing more than her signet ring and the thick gold chain around her hips. Shyly, she pressed her legs together, but this did nothing to deter the Thief. He watched her hungrily from across the board, making her feel small and vulnerable. In one last move he sealed her status, taking her last piece arrogantly, and she nearly groaned in frustration. Reaver's heated staring was distracting, and she took another drink to steady herself.

"Seeing as you have very little left, I'll leave you with what you have," Reaver said. He watched her thoughtfully before musing aloud, "How about we be reckless and play for something we really want?"

Sparrow met his gaze head on. "What do I really want?"

"You're freedom, of course," he said succinctly.

"And what do you want?" she asked apprehensively.

His smile was slow and devious, causing a new flood of heat between her legs. "I think you know." A high wager indeed. But she was good, as good as he. They had each won two rounds and appeared to be evenly matched. She could win, and then she could finally go home. But if she lost... she would be stuck with him indeffinitely. No, she had to keep her mind on winning. Reaver would steam-roll over her if she doubted herself. Determined to succeed, almost arrogant as the Pirate himself, and yet trembling under his scrutiny, she nodded recklessly. "Done."

With an evil smile, Reaver allowed her to make the first move, and she paid close attention to the board. But no matter how she focused, Reaver upped his game, taking her stones so fast she couldn't believe her eyes. Had he been holding back this whole time? Had he deliberately allowed her to win, luring her into a false sense of security until she fell neatly into his trap?

She could see no other answers as he took eight of her stones while yielding only two. _The motherless bastard_! she seethed, glowering at him as his eyes watched her with a hint of amusement and no small amount of lust. He had played her from the beginning! It was with furious dismay as she watched him gloatingly take her last piece, his eyes locked with hers. Deliberately, he brushed the board aside, the stones clattering to the floor as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her nude form flush against him, his hard flesh jutting into her belly. He could feel the slight trembling as well as the heart hammering away in her chest.

"You scoundrel," she hissed, furious at her own gullibility. "You tricked me."

Reaver's eyes darkened as he bathed her in his desire, his palms caressing her soft skin as he drank in her delicate features. His lips hovered near hers, smiling shamelessly as he murmured, "A deal is a deal, and I did warn you before, lovely Sparrow. I never said I would play fair."

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but Reaver took her lower lip between his, biting down hard enough to make her whimper, the throaty sound ending on a moan. Following nature's course, he pressed his advantage, delving deep into her mouth to taste and torment her while one hand encircled her knee, pulling her leg up to wrap over his waist, tilting her hips forward. He moaned into her soft mouth as he felt her heat seep through the thin material of his trousers, his rigid flesh nestled against her moist curls.

His hips began to rock against her, forcing her to tear her lips from his as the heat inside her burned hotter, fueled by her own desire and fury, and maybe just a bit by the wine. She pushed angrily at his hard chest, enraged at him for tricking her, but he merely fused his lips to her throat, kissing and biting his way down her shoulder. Imprisoning both her wrists in one hand, he pulled them above her head, urging her onto her back where he hovered over her. Positioning himself between her thighs, he wrapped her legs around his waist before he pressed the full length and weight of his body along hers, chuckling as her eyes flew wide before taking her lips again. Over and over he kissed her, grinding his hips down into hers until she was writhing under him, her whimpers and moans contradicting her weakening protests.

When her tongue finally intertwined with his, he released her hands, shrugging out of his black _serwan_ as his lips left hers, traveling again down her throat, all the way to one hard, rosy nipple. Teasingly, he flicked it with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth, sucking and pulling gently with his lips and teeth. Her answering whimper was sweet and vulnerable, almost begging him to love her. He complied with her guttural demands. Switching his attentions, he gave the hard nipple a gentle bite before laving it with his tongue, smiling inwardly as her fingers tangled themselves in his lustrous hair. Sparrow grasped at something, anything to hold onto as his lips drew her deeper into his dark world of sin and hedonism.

Reaver tormented her without mercy, reason and sanity deserting him as her hips began to rock helplessly in motion with his. He _had_ to feel her. He swore he wouldn't live through the night if he didn't. Rising until he was kneeling between her pale thighs, he looked down at her flushed, writhing frame. She gazed up at him with glazed, sultry eyes, her skin flushed pink as needy pants tormented his ears.

They moaned in unison as he slid a finger into her hot depths; she was so wet and slick he met no resistance but for the thin barrier signifying her overripe innocence, an innocence he would happily relieve her of. Gently, careful to cause no damage, he slid another finger in beside the second, watching her expression waver between defiance and desire. He knew what she wanted, what her body was all but begging him for, but he held back, gently sliding his fingers in and out of her dripping channel.

Sparrow was half mad with desire. She was so hot and wet she thought she would perish if he stopped touching her. She was so furious at him, wanting to strike back at him for playing her the way he had, but her body was mindlessly screaming at her to touch him, to let him do anything he wanted until she was a defenseless, sated shell of herself.

_A shell_. That is exactly what he would turn her into. She couldn't let him. He would consume her, use her up until there was nothing left and leave her pining for him when he tired of her. Her eyes stung the image hovered in her mind. She wanted more than that. She wanted this one thing in her life to be right and true. She needed more than just a hard, magnificent body with a skilled mouth and devilish fingers.

Struggling against herself, she forced her hands to pull herself away from him. Reaver pursued her, and she gasped her denial, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Reaver, don't. I can't."

Frowning down at her, Reaver fought for coherency as he read her helpless expression. Taking her chin between his fingers, he simply said, "Why are you fighting something you so obviously want?" The words didn't even make sense to him. Why would she fight him? She wanted, even needed his touch. He'd had enough women, and men, to know how to read their responses, and Sparrow's body was quite expressive when given the proper incentive.

"I just can't, Reaver," she said. "Please, just let me go."

Looking deep into her eyes for a full minute, he struggled with himself, wanting to hold her here and prove to her that she _could_ and would do this, that she needed him just as desperately as he needed her, but against all reason he found himself nodding. "Very well," he breathed, leaving a light kiss upon her lips. "Go for now, while I can still let you. But remember, lovely Sparrow," he whispered, lowering his lips to hover by her ear. "I always collect on my debts."

Shivering, Sparrow scrambled from the bed, mindlessly snatching up the black _serwan_ Reaver had dropped to the floor before fleeing the cabin. Reaver silently watched her go, staring at the door she had disappeared through long after she was gone. What had made him let her go? She was so close, her body attuned to his, their combined passion so hot it seared him. How could he have let her leave? Why would she want to? He couldn't understand. How was she able to resist him when he had her quivering and moaning under him? And why did it bother him so much? There were many other options, even aboard his vessel miles away from any port. But for once, he couldn't bring himself to go seeking out these "other options", his body demanding only Sparrow's softness, her pretty blushes and her scorching heat, so intense he could still feel the burn.

Laying back with a frustrated sigh, he promised himself, _Next time_. There would be a next time, and she would not evade him. Whether she realized it or not, she had learned to need his touch. She would come to him. She must.


	8. The City of the Conqueror

Disclaimer: Fable. Not mine.

Author's Scribble: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this far, and I really do hope you are enjoying. And I greatly appreciate the reviews I have received so far. They keep me going.

* * *

Chapter Eight

The City of the Conqueror

* * *

Sparrow silently skulked out onto the quarterdeck, holding _his_ robe tightly to her body. The wind had a bite to it this night, but she felt like she needed it. Her heart was hammering hard in her chest and her mind was reeling with a mixture of shock and shame, and though she could barely admit to herself, she swore she could feel the beginnings of a lump forming in the back of her throat even as her body was still hot and pushing her to go back. But she would never go back. _Stupid_,_ stupid_,_ stupid Sparrow_.

Leaning on the wooden railing, she held her face in her hands. What had she been thinking tonight? What had _he_ been thinking? Well, that at least was an easy question to answer. He had been thinking about himself, because he is Reaver, and that is what Reaver does. _But I am Sparrow_, _and that is not what I do_. But she had. Nearly. She had gotten in deep enough that she could feel herself slipping an obscure ledge; one stupid move and she could lose _herself_. If Reaver had taught her anything tonight, it was that he could consume her if she let him. She had been reckless tonight, gone right along with his games and nearly lost her footing entirely, something she hadn't done in nearly two decades. Sparrow laughed humorlessly to herself, hearing Theresa chiding her even now, after all these years. _Now_,_ now_,_ Sparrow_,_ pay attention to where you put your feet_._ A debilitating blow stands for nothing if you fall on your backside and cannot finish the job_. Theresa was just as right then as she was now. She couldn't afford to lose her footing with Reaver. She had recklessly gone after what she'd deemed a necessary wager, discounting all potential costs to herself.

_Maybe I have been a fool for thinking I could do this_, she thought miserably. Despite her many deeds long after her "Hero" life had been over, she knew she had waned through the years. For some time, her duties have consisted of little more than signing papers, sealing documents, morning and evening patrol, seeing to the inevitable needs of the town, collecting rent and tax, and administering justice during the rare occurrence of crime. Nothing like what her life used to be. If she were honest, traipsing through Wraithmarsh with Reaver and being subsequently abducted by him had been the most excitement she'd felt in years. Despite her fears and misgivings, despite how upset she was with herself at this moment, her heart was pounding like it hasn't since she'd faced down Lucien and exacted her twenty-year quest for revenge. But this... this was wrong. This was _Reaver_... ladies' - and man's - man extraordinaire. A bisexual nynmphomanic, trigger-happy, narcissist with a psychopathic disregard for life. She had watched him shoot at least three people before her very eyes for no other reason than he didn't get his way. He had even betrayed _her_, turning her over to Lucien for _gold_. She shudder at the memory... and yet, she had shuddered just as violently when he had touched her, and not with revulsion. She had wanted him, even needed him. It had felt _good_.

That man, despite his faults and transgressions against humanity as a whole, had held her with such care and made her burn so sweetly that even now she blushed at the memory. That insane, condemned, self-centered arrogant soul looked at her with such stark need that she felt every barrier around her crumble away like so much powder. But who was to say Reaver didn't look that way at every man and woman he takes to his bed? Even now, he could be giving one of his crew that same forlorn, needy look, seducing a sailor, or two or three, to fill the emptiness she'd left behind. With him, it was just as easily an act, a medium to the true game, as he had eloquently put it. Just another way for him to throw her off balance and defeat her at his own game. A trap. But unlike an animal, it wouldn't be a limb that was damaged beyond repair. No, the damage would run much deeper than that.

"Another hard night?" A deep male voice asked from behind her. Sparrow knew who it was instantly and slowly turn to face him. Alex carried no light, but they could see each other clearly in what was left of the moon.

"Not really," she bluffed, too ashamed to admit the truth. "Yours? Or do you just come out here every night?"

He looked down at her quietly, his eyes flicking down to her hand where it clung tightly to Reaver's robe, holding it closed, before giving her a more thorough glance. I felt her face heat up in embarrassment, suddenly aware of her swollen lips and unruly hair, and the heady scent of wine lingering about her. She desperately attempted to compose her features, but to her surprise, his expressions turned soft and sympathetic.

Heavily, he murmured, "I warned you."

Stung, she glowered at him. "I've already heard that one. It was a little late then, too. But nothing _happened_."

He took a step closer, tilting her angry face up to his with two fingers under her chin. "Even if something had, it's not too late," he whispered.

Sparrow frowned, unsure how to take his tone. Cautiously, she said, "I'm not sure about involving you in this. You can still leave the crew. You don't need my help to do that."

His silver eyes darkened, his expression suddenly fierce, cold. "Is that so? Is it that you now enjoy being the Pirate King's new favorite."

Infuriated, she jerked herself angrily away from him, glaring at him coldly. "That's not true!" she hissed. "He's a blackguard! A scoundrel! A lying, cheating, thieving murderer!"

Alex laughed darkly. "And those are his good qualities, lady." His expression became abruptly sober. "He is all that and more, but I think maybe you deny a little too adamantly. Something about you seems to have changed."

She back into the rail of the ship, but became alarmed at the way she was suddenly cornered, and quickly changed her stance, moving to the side. Alex frowned and took her elbow gently to stop her retreat. "Do you think I would harm you, Sparrow?"

She hesitated before answering. "In all honesty, I don't know if I can trust anyone but myself." She paused for a moment. "And I'm not even sure about that." Without another word, she jerked my arm away from him and decided she'd mulled over this for long enough. Her head taller, but her step no lighter, she left Alex on the deck and returned to Reaver's cabin, pressing her ear against the door before entering. She half expected him to have company after the way she had left him, but all she heard were the changeless sounds of the sea. She open the door quietly. The room was dark, but she could see a dark silhouette on the covers.

There he lay, peacefully asleep and unabashedly naked, sprawled out on top of the coverlet. Absently, she touch her hand to his face. His skin was warm, invitingly so, and she tore my hand away. She quickly change into her ivory _sare_, forgetting in the moment her shirt and trousers, and gingerly knelt on the bed, trying to situate herself near the edge without disturbing him. Successful, she settled down as far away as she could while still being warmed by his heat.

* * *

Sparrow opened her eyes the next morning to a sense of such delicious warmth that she almost couldn't bear to move. Her back arched and her limbs uncurled before reaching back to wrap around that source of heat. It felt so wonderful, hard and firm but perfect to fit against. Her sigh of contentment was followed by a husky chuckle. Sparrows eyes snapped open. Reaver's laughing eyes were there to greet her. Her limbs were wrapped around him. Worse, she quickly realized he had not moved from the position she had found him in last night. If anything, it seemed she had moved closer to him in her sleep, seeking his warmth.

Flustered, she scrambled from the bed and stood facing his nude form.

"You look beautiful when your face is flushed that particular shade of pink," Reaver commented, rising from the bed to stretch his long limbs. She was captivated by his bare, unrepentant perfection, but she quickly tore her eyes away. Reaver smiled to himself, but didn't comment and began to clothe himself. "We will be reaching land soon," he said as he pulled on another _serwan_, this one in a rich shade of crimson, and a pair of the strange, loose trousers.

"Why the change of wardrobe?" she wondered aloud.

Reaver shot her a patronizing smile over his shoulder. "The manners and customs of Samarkand vary based on what land you find yourself in. As do manners of dress. Sadrhi is located on the far southern coast of Samarkand. It is often sweltering during the day and tropical at night. The people try not to wear too many clothes," he added with a cheeky grin. "Besides," he mused thoughtfully, looking over her attire, "their taste is very appealing to the eyes, even to a gentleman of my refined tastes who prefers nothing at all."

"I thought I would wear my own clothes," she protested.

His answering smile made her heart skip a beat. "I said you could have your clothes back, not that you would be wearing them," he replied with a roguish wink. "You will be more comfortable in that, I assure you. And you will be needing this," he added, walking to his wardrobe and retrieving a length of ivory material large enough to wrap around her body and drape to the floor. Reaver helped her put it on, securing it around the waist of her skirt and wrapping it around her, draping it over her head to cover her hair. He stood back to admire his handiwork.

"Lovely," he deemed. He also gave her a pair of shoes, little more than silken ivory slippers with thin, leather soles. She felt ridiculous at the very thought of wearing them, but regardless put them on and followed him up on deck. They walked to the bow of the ship in time to see Samarkand appear on the horizon. They watched it come closer until Sparrow could make out the landscape. She was immediately stunned by how... alien it was. The buildings were a sea of spires and domes. As they drew nearer, she could make out extravagant stone statues and monuments.

When they made port, she walked down the plank on shaky legs, and Reaver took her arm solicitously, leading her to something he called a 'rickshaw'. It was a simple buggy on two wheels pulled by a peasant. She was surprised at seeing this.

"Reaver, we can't ride in that," she protested, concerned for the man harnessed to the cart like a mule.

"It's quite all right. These are everywhere throughout Samarkand," he reassured her, and she grudgingly allowed him to coax her onto the cushioned seat before he slid in beside her. He closed the small door and spoke to the man in a strange tongue. The man nodded and took off at a swift pace, weaving in and out of the hustle and bustle. Sparrow paid close attention to everything they passed, trying to ignore Reaver's proximity. The first thing she noticed was Reaver was right; it was _hot_. Worse, the sun was almost blinding in its brightness. She pulled her wrap lower over her head, trying to shield her eyes. The next thing she noticed was the road, row after row of hand-made rectangular clay cobbles, worn smooth by so many feet. The buildings came next. They were extravagant and made of stone, wood or straw. Looking around she saw the people were indeed dressed in loose, colorful clothing like theirs, some simple, other extravagant, and some which reminded her vividly of her housekeeper, Mrs. Kumar. Some people complimented their dusky skin colorful clothes with an array of ostentatious gold jewelry, from bangles to intricate earrings and hairpieces, some bejeweled with everything from rubies, to pearls, to diamonds. The air was filled with thousands of voices speaking their peculiar tongue.

As they made a sharp turn, they passed an elegant stone temple issuing a strange smoke. Sparrow caught a whiff of a strange but pleasing scent, musky, but mixed with an indescribable aroma. The longer they traveled, the nicer and less crowded the streets became. The straw houses disappeared and the temples became grander. Finally, they came to a stop at the largest structure Sparrow had yet seen. Sparrow could only assume it was a palace, home to this Prince Rajeev. The elegant domes were innumerable and made from a gold that shone brighter than the sun. The stone walls were pure white and embellished with intricate carvings, some etched in, some as statues that emerged life-like from the stone's surface. She blushed when she realized that many of these effigies were depictions of men and women, nude and displayed in erotic, if not down right lascivious poses.

"What do you think?" Reaver asked as she slid out of the rickshaw. He tossed the man a coin and he took off with what she could only assume was 'thank you'.

"How decadent," she replied, looking with condemnation upon the blatant opulence.

Reaver's smile turned wicked. "I'm afraid everything in Sadrhi is decadent."

They were admitted into the palace by an imposing guard, standing at what must have been seven feet tall with dark skin, dark eyes, and a sizable, jagged curved blade. Despite his menacing appearance, his tone was low and respectful, and he led them to the inner palace, straight to a large circular chamber under the largest dome in the palace. There were no decorations on the walls, but more effigies. The furniture was lavish and designed for comfort, and colorfully woven rugs padded the stone floor. In the center of the room was one man, and Sparrow could instantly see why he and Reaver were 'friends'. The man, whom she presumed was Prince Rajeev, was distinguished, with long black hair that fell about his shoulders in loose waves and a strong, handsome face. He displayed like a peacock in blue and green silks, surrounded by over a dozen bejeweled and beautifully clothed women. At the sound of their entrance, all looked toward them and all smiled when they saw the Pirate King. Sparrow rolled her eyes to the heavens.

The Prince stood and greeted Reaver with open arms. "Reaver, my good friend, welcome. Eet ees a pleasure tu see yu again." She was surprised to hear him speak their tongue, though heavily accented and somewhat broken. Silently, she wondered just how _good_ of friends they were.

Reaver hugged the man, formally but not coldly. "Rajeev, I could not stay away. I have brought someone with me this time." Reaver turned and gestured to Sparrow, standing quietly behind Reaver. The Prince looked at her, visibly intrigued. "Allow me to introduce Sparrow, my newest consort."

Sparrow nearly choked in shock, but instead glared at him furiously. The Prince cut off her reply, however, as he eagerly came forward to greet her and kissed her hand. She blushed and pulled her hand away as quickly as was polite.

His smile reached his inky black eyes, filling them with true warmth. "_Surabhi_ Spairrow, eet ees my pleasure tu welcome yu tu my home. I hope yu will be comfortable here." She smiled politely, and the Prince turned back to Reaver. "Such a beautiful consort yu have found. Yu are truly blessed. Surely she ees tu attend my party tonight?" he asked hopefully.

Reaver nodded. "Of course, she can keep company with your beautiful wife."

For some reason, the Prince appeared rebuffed, but recovered quickly. "Of course. Would yu like tu keep her een my harem?"

Reaver smiled, though it was somewhat threatening. "That is very generous of you. Very well, but only during the daylight hours. At night, she is to keep my company alone."

The Prince clapped his hands twice and the women rose. Approaching Reaver, she asked, "What is _surabhi_?"

He smiled. "It means 'lovely'."

She decided to ignore that and move on. "And what exactly is a harem?"

"It is where the ladies of the palace are kept. Do not worry. It is the most guarded place in the palace. Men are forbidden to enter."

As though to deliberately contradict his words, several male guards entered the room. "And them?" she asked archly.

"The harem guard. They will escort and protect you. Don't worry about them either. They are all eunuchs," he explained, then gave them a sad look. "A pity really, and a sad state for any man to be in."

Again she rolled her eyes, but allowed herself to be lead away with the other women.

The harem was as lavish and elegant as the previous room. In the center of the main room a large area of the floor was sunken in and filled with clear, scented water where many women were bathing themselves. There were dozens more women in the room and she wondered what they were all doing there. But they all spoke in the same peculiar tongue, so she could not ask.

She found a quiet corner and made herself comfortable. Most of the women completely ignored her, though some seemed more curious and glanced her way occasionally. She ignored their stares, unsure of what to do with herself. What was she doing here? It didn't even seem real, these strange surroundings. This existence seemed lavish to the brink of being superfluous and hallow.

Feeling a light tap on her shoulder, she looked up from her musings into the dark eyes of a very young woman. She smiled at her in a friendly manner, and somehow Sparrow found herself smiling back. The girl sat next to her and surprised her by saying, "Welcome. My name ees Mayil." Her words were slow and carefully spoken, her accent so heavy Sparrow had to listen carefully to understand her. "Ees eet tru yu came with Reaver from Albeeyon?" she asked.

Sparrow's smile fell. "Yes, and more like he forced me to come along with him."

The girl smiled. "I know what yu are theenking, and I am not one of yur Pirate Keeng's conquests. I am the youngest daughtair of Preence Rajeev, and my hand ees spoken for."

For some reason Sparrow felt her heart lighten and gave Mayil a genuine smile. "I am so relieved to meet someone in here who can speak my language. My name is Sparrow."

"Eet ees a pleasure. Yu are Reaver's consort?" she asked.

"Ye - no! I'm merely traveling with him," Sparrow hastily assured her. "I wouldn't have that man if he was the very last choice in Albion or Samarkand."

Mayil smiled wryly. "How strange. The women here speek so highly of heem."

"I'm sure they do," Sparrow grumbled, then asked, "What exactly is 'here'?"

"Thees ees my fathair's harem. Eet ees whair he keeps hees... othair women."

"Other women?" she queried, not liking where this was going.

"Yes. Yu might also theenk of them as hees othair wives."

"Other wives? As in... concubines?"

Mayil shruged, not understanding the word, but Sparrow was sure she was right. She shook her head in contempt.

"Are yu attendeeng the partee tonight?" Mayil suddenly asked.

"I assume so, that seems to be the reason Reaver brought me here."

Mayil nodded. "Then wee should bee getteeng yu ready. Eet ees best tu get started first."

Sparrow frowned but followed Mayil around the pool, to a wall where several spouts protruded from the ceiling and small drains were situated under them. There, she unabashedly stripped down everything but her jewelry, stepped beneath a spout, and pulled a silk, corded rope. The water came pouring down over her, and Sparrow imitated her actions. She was given something like a sponge, but made of stone, and scented soaps to scrub herself with. When they stepped out of the water, Mayil instructed her to apply a peculiar lavender cream all over her skin. "What is this?"

"Eet ees tu make the skeen flawless. Put eet everywhair, all the way up tu your neck and down tu yur toes. I weell apply eet tu yur back for yu."

Sparrow did as she asked. It made her skin tingle coolly, but she felt nothing else. Mayil used it on herself and Sparrow in turn spread it over the dark skin of her back. After letting it settle on her skin for several minutes, Sparrow stepped under the spout again, closed her eyes and held her breath, then pulled the rope. The substance washed away, leaving her skin feeling lighter and cleaner than it ever had in her life. When the water stopped, she looked down and saw that all the hair had been denuded from her body, leaving every inch of her skin glistening like a pearl.

Mayil seemed amused by her surprise. "Du yu not use thees een Albeeyon?"

"No, at least, I've never seen anything like it. But I've never looked for it either," she replied, feeling strangely bare.

From there, they walked into the sunken pool, where they languished in the steamy water for more than an hour. As soon as she was deep enough, Sparrow bent he knees and lowered herself to her chin.

"If you're the Prince's daughter, what are you doing in the harem?" Sparrow asked.

Mayil shrugged. "Eet ees one of the few places I am allowed tu go without several guards undair my feet. Some of the women een here are good company, and eet ees a change from the royal house."

Sparrow looked at her in surprise. "You aren't allowed to walk about alone?"

Mayil shook her head. "No. I am confined tu the palace." Seeing Sparrow's alarm, she elaborated, "Eet ees the way theengs are here. Eet ees for my protection."

"How strange. I've been on my own since I was a little girl. Well, I had a sister to watch out for me, but she passed away." It had taken all these years to be able to say that with a steady voice. "I can't imagine being sheltered away like that."

"Eet ees not so bad, but eet can get boring and lonelee. So yu see, beeing een here ees preferable tu beeing thair. I have some freedom tu move around here." Then in a conspirator's whisper she added, "And thair are seecret passages tu the men's chambers. Eef I'm cairful, I can get out sometimes without aneeone beeing the wisair.."

Sparrow was torn between shock and amusement, but the greater part of her realized an opportunity. "Really?" she asked with casual interest. "How well do you know these passages?"

"Oh, as perfectly as aneeone een thees room."

Sparrow smiled. "If I wanted to go through them, would you show me the way?"

Mayil looked intrigued. "Whair would yu need tu go?"

"Well, ultimately I'd need to get out of the palace entirely."

"That ees deefeecult, but I have found a few ways out. They all come out at deefferent locations," she replied, and Sparrow felt her heart pump excitedly.

"Do any come out near the harbor?"

"One does, but eet ees a few miles intu the citee. Eet's a bit of a walk tu the docks."

Sparrow knew she would have to plan this carefully. This could be the chance she had been waiting for if she didn't blow it. "Will you be here tonight after the party?"

"I can come. No one worrees about where I go, except for my chaperons. So long as they know whair I am, or know whair they theenk I am, no one cares."

Smiling to herself, but immediately distracted by a worrisome thought, Sparrow said, "I don't have anything to give you in return."

"Eet ees all right," Mayil dismissed her concerns. "I weell be sent away tu my husband soon, and the rest of my life weell bee provided for mee."

Sparrow frowned at this, but fell silent, content to float about in the water. When it was time, she climbed out and quickly covered herself with a drying cloth and patted her skin down. Mayil lead Sparrow to an adjacent room. It was obviously the dressing room. Fabrics, jewels, and pigments of every color were available for selection. Mayil told Sparrow to get comfortable and spent almost an hour drawing intricate designs similar to her own on Sparrow's hands and feet with antique-gold ink. When she tried to dress the Hero in an airy, flame colored _sare,_ Sparrow tried to protest, to no avail.

The flame-colored _sare_ was decadent, with gold designs embroidered in and a beaten gold rope to secure it at the waist. Several gold bangles were added to her wrists and ankles, and gold powder was painted onto her face. Pure black _khol_ outlined her eyes, and more gold trinkets were added to her hair. When she finally saw herself in the mirror, she hardly recognized her own image. _This can_'_t be real_. She touched her cheek and her reflection mimicked her. _That cannot be me_. She felt a strange pleasure at her image, but in a way it twisted in her stomach into a knot. What was she doing in this place? To Mayil, this is all common place and normal, as much as her being "sent away" to a husband. Sparrow shook her head. _Patience_, she reminded herself again. Soon she would find a way away from this madness and back home.

* * *

A/N: Btw, that cream mentioned isn't Nair lol, its an actual cream that has some history in Turkey... or was it India... Or maybe the former Ottoman Empire (I don't know how reliable the source I read that from was though, but it seemed like an interesting idea none the less.) I made it pink originally cause I wasn't thinking what people would automatically compare it to. I really hope you enjoyed. If you like leave a review on your way out please and I'll be back to deliver more soon ^_^


	9. Surrender

Disclaimer: I don't own Fable 1 2 or 3.

Author's Rambling: dear readers, thank you so much to everyone who is reading along. I'm so happy ^_^ and as usual, I am back to deliver more ReaverxSparrow. I know I said I would be back with more "soon", but I just needed a few days break away from the story. Honestly, every time I tried to do so much as think the word Reaver or Sparrow my brain would just turn to mush. Then I took a day or two to play the game again, just to get better in touch with it. But when I was all refreshed, this is what came next. Here I think you'll see another side of Sparrow, the less self-assured side, or the weaker side, one might call it. I thought it might seem a little out of character for her the first time I read through it, but then this is the way Sparrow says it happened (my inner-Sparrow I guess you could call her, though she is very much her own character), and really, we can't all be as confident in ourselves all of the time. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy. And I tried to get all the mistakes corrected.

Warning: Definite Adult Content Ahead. If you don't like that, read as far as you're comfortable, then skip to the end.

* * *

Chapter Nine

Surrender

* * *

Sparrow had finished readying herself for the celebration long before anyone came to fetch herself or Mayil. She wisely took the time to rest and compose herself, occasionally gleaning information from her newest ally. The way Mayil spoke of it, this party would be a far cry from the folk gatherings back home. Food and music would of course be present, but it seemed the main attraction would be the "entairtainment". What exactly this entertainment would be, Mayil did not say.

"My seestairs and myself are escorted back tu the royal house before the entairtainment commences," she explained. Sparrow frowned at this. It wasn't too hard to guess that the entertainment would be the dozens of dusky, sensuous women frantically scurrying around them as they applied all forms of artifice to their faces and bodies. She had never seen such a production, and while she tried to appear composed and indifferent, she could feel her gut twist unpleasantly inside her as she tried to imagine her pale, awkward self next to these practiced voluptuaries. Each one of them exuded extreme beauty, confidence, and sensuality, spending hours priming and accentuating each feminine attribute, be it the dark, sultry, burning eyes or the curvaceous, swaying hips. Whenever she caught a glimpse of her image in a mirror, painted and polished to perfection, an impostor stared back at her. She saw that no matter how many baubles or how much silk she was adorned in, her inadequacies became obvious when placed next to the real thing.

As the time approached, a chaperon, accompanied by two guards, arrived to collect Mayil and herself, and escort them to another wing of the palace. Sparrow was grateful to escape the harem and, with it, her own self pity. Mayil was wrapped in royal blue silk with a veil covering her face, but Sparrow required no wrap or veil, and followed along with the bangles jingling on her ankles and wrists, and a feeling of self-consciousness clinging to her very skin. She became quickly distracted as they stopped before a grand, arched double door; lively but strange music and laughter issued from the other side. She couldn't dream of identifying the instruments creating those beautiful, irreverent notes, but that too was forgotten as the doors opened, revealing what could hardly be called a formal dining hall.

The space resembled more of an enormous, multi-tiered terrace with dozens of intricate stone statues and hundreds of burning torches illuminating everything in soft, seductive firelight. Lounges and vibrant cushions were arranged in large clusters around plush rugs, and groups mingled and intermingled between these, men and women freely laughing and eating exotic dishes who's scent left a pleasant burning in Sparrow's sensitive nose. Serving women dressed in simple dark robes carried large platters decked with strange vegetables and glazed meats, circulating smoothly through the gathering.

Few noticed them as they made their way to the center of the terrace, where a raised circular floor held some thirty guests, all of them lounging on colorful, plushy cushions and rugs, clustered around the most peculiar device Sparrow had yet seen. It appeared to be some manner of vase, tall and slender, fashioned of flame colored glass. The opening on top was sealed, with a stem protruding from it, leading up to a silver tray and a small, clay bowl perched on top. Inside this clay bowl something was slowly smoldering, occasionally glowing bright red. Several hoses spouted from its wide, circular base, each leading to out to the circle. Her eyes followed one, and at the end of the long hose was a carved, wooden mouthpiece; her eyes widened when they lifted and met the gaze of the Pirate King. He sat comfortably amongst the other guests, speaking their language in loud, boastful tones, but when his eyes met with Sparrow's, his bragging ceased and his lips curved into a slow, unreadable smile that made her stomach to a strange flip. The circle grew larger to make room for them, and Sparrow found herself kneeling between the Prince's wife and Reaver, who said nothing, but continued to watch her with that maddening smile. She flushed in embarrassment, glaring at him, but he did not look away. The Prince reached across him, capturing Sparrow's attention and her hand.

"_Surabhi_ Sparrow, I'm so happy you could join us," Rajeev greeted fondly. Sparrow smiled politely and murmured an indistinct reply before retrieving her hand and turning away toward his wife, dismissing both Prince and King.

"Yu may call mee Dala. Welcome tu our home, _Gauraiya_," the sloe-eyed woman said with a smile, her attempt at conversation the most broken Sparrow had heard yet.

Before she could ask for a translation a voice whispered by her ear, "It's your name, or the closest translation," Reaver explained, his hot breath caressing the shell of her ear. "And I think it's adorable when you try to pretend I don't exist. It is endearing in a way," he added, his finger raising goose bumps on the side of her arm. She pushed his arm away and smiled at the woman as though there had been no interruption.

"Dala, thank you for having us. This is quite the celebration," Sparrow said, attempting a polite smile. It faltered as a bedeviled finger left a burning trail down her spine. Again she disregarded it, and she tried to focus on conversing with her hostess.

"Ees thees yur first time tu Samarkand?"

"Yes it is. I traveled much through Albion, but never made it across the seas before I was tied down."

"Ah, are thair mahnee leettle ones?" Dala asked fondly, her eyes traveling down the circle where Sparrow assumed many of her own children were present.

"No, I have no children," Sparrow quietly denied, suddenly somber.

"Oh, the notoreeous Reavair has not gotten a babe on yu yet?" Dala asked, sounding quite surprised as she glanced over at the pirate in question. Reaver gave her a heart stopping smile as he pulled Sparrow into his lap. Sparrow, for her part, tried to discourage him without causing a scene, but the Pirate ignored her stiff form and held her close. Sparrow's heart began to thump so hard in her chest she wondered for a moment if Reaver could feel it.

"The lady places her people first," he explained graciously, nuzzling the side of her neck and giving Dala a winning smile. "I keep telling her to relax and enjoy life, but she is dedicated. She truly is as exceptional as she is lovely, is she not?" he finished, the sincerity in his voice taking Sparrow by surprise.

"Indeed, shee ees," Dala replied. "But du not take tu long to learn the joys of familee," she said with a meaningful smile at the younger woman. Sparrow nodded to be agreeable and tried to edge her way off of Reaver's lap, but his arm was secure around her waist and she was forced to smile at her hosts and accept it.

The woman's attention was diverted for a moment and Reaver took advantage. "You look beautiful in red," he whispered huskily into her ear, his teeth scraping gently against her earlobe. She shivered and leaned away, sniffing primly. Undeterred, he pulled back to him and said, "I trust you enjoy your accommodations?"

"I take it you are referring to the whore house?" she said huffily, not even turning to see his answering smirk.

"Now that is a rather crude term," he commented indifferently, but with a hint of amusement as his fingers continued their path over her skin, making her stiffen and try to squirm away, though he gave her no place to go.

"It is what it is," she retorted. "Whore house. Brothel. _Harem_," she said scathingly. "It is where that good _friend_ of yours keeps his _other wives_ at his beck and call."

Reaver had the temerity to laugh and Sparrow turned to glare at him coldly, only to be shocked as the Pirate's warm lips fused with hers. Mortified, she jerked away, her cheeks flaming. "What is wrong with you to kiss me in such a public place?" she hissed, turning to see if anyone had noticed, but she was speechless to see that many men present had a woman, or even two, in their lap, and several made no effort to hide any physical displays as they laughed and cavorted.

"I don't see being susceptible to your charms, especially when you are dressed so beautifully for me, as being wrong," he purred, pulling her to him until her back was flush with his chest. He tucked her head under his chin before lifting the mouthpiece to his lips and inhaling deeply. Sparrow was momentarily distracted from their banter and allowed her eyes to stray to the peculiar vase.

"What is that?" she asked. Before answering he blew a cloud of the sweetest scented smoke, making Sparrow's nose twitch curiously.

"Would you like to try it?" he offered, bringing the intricate piece to her lips. Hesitating for a second, she allowed them to part and closed them around the polished wood. Tentatively, she inhaled, immediately feeling a smooth smoke burn down her throat and fill her lungs. "Deeper," he encouraged, his voice low and husky, and she breathed in the smoke until she had to push the hose away. For a moment she held her breath then released, watching, mesmerized as the smoke passed once more between her lips to perfume the air. In almost an instant she felt her body start to slacken, sinking slowly back against the Pirate, content to do little more than gaze around at the other merrymakers. Occasionally, a sweet fruit or some type of spicy meat was passed between her lips by Reaver's hand, and he would frequently trace the outline of her lips or shoulders, or wherever he liked while carrying on conversations with the guests surrounding them.

Sparrow tried to muster a sense of indignity at Reaver feeding her and stroking her like a pet, but each time she would think on it a surge of euphoria would overtake her and she would lay back, content once more. Why should she care if he fed her or touched her? No one else seemed to think anything of it, and it wasn't hurting her. She couldn't very well speak to any of the guests while a language barrier existed between them, and Reaver didn't seem intent on releasing her anytime soon, so it wasn't as though she could get up and leave. Thrice more the wooden mouthpiece was brought to her lips and she felt invisible binds lift from her, and she had the brief notion that Reaver's arms were the only thing holding her to the floor. The terrace took on a surreal quality, causing her to wonder if this was nothing more than some sort of dream. This world didn't seem real; it was too different from everything she had known and built herself around.

Sparrow had long lost all sense of time when she saw several women from their cluster rise at the same time. She recognized two of them to be Mayil and Dala, and quickly realized that the 'entertainment' was soon to start as many of the females followed their lead. Fewer than half remained seated, and she instinctively tried to stand, but the arm around her waist held her back. Frowning, she turned in his lap slightly until she could see the Pirate's eyes, and immediately regretted it as her heart began to pound and an intense heat flared inside her.

"I should go with them," she murmured, already feeling her determination wither under his burning gaze.

"You stay with me tonight," he said simply, then pulled her to him again without allowing her to turn back. Her breasts brushed teasingly against his chest and her legs curled sideways in his lap, but he did nothing more than hold her as the terrace emptied of women. As soon as the arched door swung shut another door was swung open and dozens of women dressed in colorful robes and veils spilled in, dancing and spinning their way through the crowd of men, who let shouts of gratitude and appreciation. The harem girls gradually filled out the crowd, and as they approached the central terrace, Sparrow's suspicions were confirmed. The first woman to reach their circle was the most magnificent Sparrow had yet seen. She wore no veil, though it was immediately obvious why. Her face was exotic to the extreme, her inky, almond eyes locking sensually on her prey, the Prince as it were, and her lush, ruby lips curved into the most seductive of smiles. Pure ivory silk accentuated with strings of pearls concealed only parts of her tall, voluptuous body, and more pearls adorned her throat, arms, ankles, and hair, setting off her perfect, dusky complexion in a way that made Sparrow's gut twist agonizingly. The courtesan danced her way across the floor, swaying her hips and arms in movements that were both mesmerizing and hypnotic. She drew every eye, but danced as though the Prince was the only man left in the world. With a sigh that seemed to end on a moan, she gracefully fell in Rajeev's arms, and Sparrow couldn't help but risk a glance at Reaver, needing to know what he was thinking.

To her surprise, Reaver's warm eyes were scrutinizing her face, as though gauging _her_ reaction. Sparrow quickly looked away, humiliated by her own response to the spectacle, but there was no where to look. Around her men and women mingled, some kissing and others progressing to more intimate exchanges, some merely watching as women danced over them, dropping fruits between the men's lips as straying hands caressed beneath their skirts. The alluring yet repulsive displays forced Sparrow to drag her eyes back to Reaver's, her body burning with embarrassment and a more primal heat that settled deep within and spread slowly along her limbs. Not for the first time she felt drawn closer to him, but even as her own hands pulled her to him, so close as to share the same breath, reason called her back, but the voice was far off and at that moment she was locked with him, unsure what to do. Reaver's eyes widened at her unexpected advance, but when her lips parted and her small tongue peeked out to dampen them, need overruled any thought and he closed the space between them, crushing her body to his as he slowly, _hungrily_ ravaged her mouth. He was intent on tasting every bit of her, caressing her tongue as his hands roamed over her skin. The heat burning through her, collected wherever his hands touched, while her body trembled against him, forcing him to let out a moan of pure need. The sound took her breath from her, and with her mind spinning hazily, Sparrow felt her arms hold on to him tighter. He leaned back into the soft cushion with her in his arms, sliding the skirt up her leg to her hips. Encircling one knee, he pulled her leg across his hip to straddle the other side, settling her over his pulsing erection.

Her eyes widened as she felt the bulge, separated from her by the mere silk of his trousers, against her bare, smooth folds, already slick and sensitive. Sparrow tore her lips away from his, her eyes misted with uncertainty. She was losing control, and knew there was a reason that was dangerous for her. But Reaver's lips were blazing a path down her collar bone, driving off each sane, cautionary thought. His hands slid sensually down her back, slipping under her skirt to gently cup her bare, soft derriere, causing her to jump slightly and inadvertently grind down onto him. His hands tightened as he moaned in ecstasy. This was how he needed her; hot and wet and in his arms.

Sparrow grappled for sanity. This wasn't real. This was insanity. She could not possibly be writhing in the Pirate King's arms, in the center of this strange, erotic paradise, surrounded by so many people. It could not be her who trembled expectantly as his nimble fingers unhooked the clasps holding her vest closed. Mesmerized, she watched as he bared her soft, round breasts, vaguely surprised at how different they looked to her now. They seemed fuller somehow, heavier at the very thought of the Pirate touching them, and her pink nipples were already standing out at a sharp point, as though reaching for the Pirate, tempting him to play with them.

It was more temptation than the Pirate could resist. With a low moan, he cupped both delicious globes in his hands, lifting them up high, like some kind of offering, and took one inside his warm mouth, lapping at the nipple, rolling it languidly against his tongue until it was swollen and sensitive, before drawing it deeper and suckling strongly. For the first time, Sparrow forgot all about reason, forgot about the hundreds of people surrounding them, and her reaction was sharp and immediate. Her eyes drifted closed as her head and shoulders fell back, and her back arched into him, lifting her breasts higher as her hips began a subconscious rhythm against his, grinding against the thick bulge beneath her, heightening her pleasure until a harmony of whimpers and moans poured from her lips.

The Pirate nearly lost all control as he felt her hips grinding down upon his; at last, she was giving herself up to him, seeking her own pleasure at his hands and shaft, and as he switched his mouth to her other tempting nipple, his hand reached down between them to pet her sensitive skin. Her moans turned into soft keening cries, and his shaft hardened and thickened still further, until he felt like it would burst from the fabric separating them. With expert maneuvering, he pulled at the waistline of his leggings, inching them down until bare skin met bare skin. Sparrow's eyes snapped open in shock, her pupils dilating in ecstasy, when she felt his burning, pulsing flesh pressed intimately between her tiny folds; she could feel them spread open as she writhed against him, could feel his hardness against her small, sensitive bud, making her shudder every time she ground herself against it. She could no longer stop herself if she tried. The pleasure was too great, the heat too hot, her need too sharp...

Reaver growled as he felt her juices coating him, dripping down around his shaft, preparing him for the moment when he would finally fill her body with his. By Skorm, they were both so hot and lustful he was afraid he would tear through her soft, pliant body with alarming speed, something he knew he must not do. This first time, he wanted to savor her. He wanted to kindle the fires in her belly so that she would need him again and again, knowing only he could sate her. He had promised himself, and her, that he would love her body, and while promises did not normally mean anything to him, he found himself wanting to keep just this one. There would be plenty of time later to teach her all the different, delicious ways they could love each other.

Gently, so as not to alarm her, he rolled them over, laying her down in the cushions as he knelt between her thighs and pooled her crimson skirt around her hips. She was so lovely, all flushed and panting and writhing, and his eyes were immediately riveted to the newly bared skin between her legs. The tight red curls that had been there before were now gone, and the denuded skin looked so smooth to the eye that his fingers instinctively reached out to ply her folds, reveling in their softness.

Sparrow was more than aware of the Pirate staring directly down at the place between her thighs. Indeed, embarrassed though she was, she was also enraptured by the dark lust that consumed his features, was aroused by the sheer sensuality of the moment, and for the first time, she lifted her hips shamelessly before him, her lips incoherently inviting him to touch her further, to play with her however he pleased.

The Pirate's eyes flashed to hers, so dark and foreboding that she shuddered under his gaze, and without preamble, he slid two fingers deep inside her tight, slippery hole, watching with heavy lidded eyes as her lips parted and her voice rose in volume, joining in with those of others who were basking without reservation in carnal pleasures. Her inner walls clung to his fingers, scalding his skin as her body fought to draw the maddening digits in deeper, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Look at me," he growled, and her eyes snapped open, transfixed by his ravenous stare. Again and again he used his fingers to torment and pleasure her, dipping them in and out of her, caressing her scorching walls until her thighs were trembling and her body was writhing. He built speed as her cries and moans grew more urgent and abruptly changed his angle, hitting a more sensitive spot inside her, and a hard spasm rocked through her, sending a harsh scream tearing from her lips.

By Avo, she couldn't stop him. The heat burning inside her was feeding off this man, this pirate, and for one terrifying moment, Sparrow feared herself lost to him forever. Every time Reaver looked into her with a raw, primal desire burning in his eyes, she fell deeper and deeper into his world of lust and madness. Without reservation, she threaded her hands into his hair and pulled his lips down to hers. They clashed together with a violence that was almost frightening, but the danger that swirled between them only heightened her arousal. It was too late for her. She needed this. She needed _him_. Even if it was insanity, she _wanted_ to burn alive in his arms.

"That's right, love, just let go," Reaver said huskily, knowing what she wanted as he stroked her swollen nub with his thumb and thrust his fingers deep into her. He groaned as her whimpers turned into pleading cries, her walls tightening unbearably around his fingers. He _needed_ to be inside her, but first she had to fall apart at his hands. With another thrust he felt her body tighten, arching and trembling, and he held her there, tormenting her until a pleading moan escaped her lips, then thrusting his fingers once more, stroking her nub mercilessly as she finally broke in his arms. His name formed in a hoarse, lusty cry torn from her lips, and Reaver growled hers in response. He could not deny either of them any longer.

He covered her trembling, breathless body with his, gently easing the head of his shaft into her. Sparrow's eyes smoldered as they met his, and he gathered her close to him, giving her a brief, tender kiss. "Reaver." She whispered his name against his lips, and the Pirate needed no further urging. He wrapped her legs around him, then brought up one hand to cup the back of her head. He curled his fingers tightly in her hair and forced her face upward so he could look directly into her glimmering eyes and witness her every expression; then, in one smooth motion, her drove his rigid flesh into her smaller body, tearing through the barrier that marked her innocence and stretching her sheath past the point of enduring as he filled her completely, burying every inch of himself inside her.

He watched as her eyes widened in shock, and her lips parted to release a cry of pain. For the first time in hours, Sparrow felt stone-cold sober, and she pushed insistently at the Pirate's shoulders, trying to force him off of her. Where before pleasure and heat had coursed through her, now there was nothing but a sea of pain. Why had she wanted this? Why would _anyone_ want this?

"Reaver, please... stop," she begged, pleading with her eyes as moisture dampened her long lashes. "You're hurting me."

The Pirate did not move; he couldn't. He could barely breathe, could barely think. She felt like a tight, hot fist squeezing around him, and he didn't think he could leave the haven of her body even if the Shadow Court themselves were coming for him this very moment.

"Shhh, my love, it will get better," he whispered raggedly against her skin as he caressed her hair, trying to soothe her. And so they waited, Reaver holding himself back until her trembling had lessened and muscles holding him so tightly began to shift around him, pulling at him.

He began slowly at first, smiling at her small, forlorn gasp as he gently pulled out of her. He did not make her wait long, but reentered her almost immediately, sliding in with exquisite tenderness. He kept this pace up, until Sparrow's head was rolling back and she was arching into him. The pain was gone, and heat was building again inside her, so hot and torturous that she couldn't stop herself from lifting her hips to meet his. He was going so slowly that she wanted to scream her desire aloud, but just when she was about to cry out in frustration, he abruptly drove himself deep inside her with such force that she let out a cry that rang out over the room. Smiling deviously, he repeated the motion again, again and again, watching every expression of ecstasy that passed over her beautiful feature as he slammed his rigid flesh repeatedly into her.

Each thrust into her ended where he slammed into her cervix, buried in her to the hilt, and Sparrow took all of him, marveling each time he filled and stretched her, each time he became apart of her. She was so wet, holding him tightly until he thought he couldn't breathe. The Thief wanted desperately to thrust violently into her until she was screaming and thrashing under him, but by some miracle he held himself back, drawing out the moment, holding her close until he could feel her pounding heart against his own chest.

When his lips met hers, her need nearly devoured him, her fingers tangling tightly in his silky tresses, and he found himself moving faster, pounding into her as her moans and cries reverberated through him. She was so untamed... so shameless and uninhibited. She reminded him of a storm at sea, and he wasn't sure he would survive her. Her teeth and nails tore through the skin of his shoulders, but there was no pain. He wanted more. He answered in kind, inflicting the same marks on her creamy skin, and she tightened around him further. Louder, more urgent cries reached his ears. He drove on steadily, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust, burying himself into her molten passage as she drew closer, climbed higher. He shifted again, slamming into that same sensitive spot, and her hips bucked helplessly under his.

She whispered his name uncertainly, becoming keenly aware of the pressure building inside her. She knew what was coming, he had done this to her before, but never like this... never with such urgent intensity.

"Sparrow." His lips growled her name almost beseechingly next to her ear. "Fly with me, Sparrow," the Thief demanded hoarsely, ready to lose his tenuous hold on control. He knew she was close, and he drove her on relentlessly, picking up speed until finally it happened. He felt it first, the unbearable tightening of her dripping passage before a rush of her hot juices coated him. Her lips screamed his name in ecstasy, and he closed his eyes, his lips answering her cries over and over, allowing her release to rock through him, and driving him onto his own. Seconds later his seed coated her insides, filling her womb until she could take no more their mixed fluids dripped out of her.

The Thief collapsed against her, breathing raggedly into her breasts as he drifted to the sound of Sparrow's racing heart. Her fingers loosened but remained buried in his hair, her limbs as powerless to move as his. Time had no meaning as they lay still, aware of only each other as they drifted reluctantly back down to the here and now. When he finally found himself able to move, Reaver brought his head up to look at her. Her eyes flitted open when she felt his stare, and almost immediately she became of aware of what had just happened, what she'd allowed to happen. She'd lain with the Pirate willingly, eagerly, allowed him to touch her and take in this strange place. He hadn't even the decency to provide them a measure of privacy, but had taken in this room surrounded by at least a hundred people like some kind of whore!

Trembling and feeling distinctly ill, she pushed at his chest again, this time so hard and abruptly that the Pirate willingly removed himself from her. Pulling herself into a sitting position, she tried to hide her face as tears began to fill her eyes.

"Sparrow, my love," he whispered, drawing her to him as he tried to comfort her.

Violently, she slapped his hands away. "Don't!" she hissed. "Don't touch me! Don't speak to me! Don't even look at me!"

Trembling, she scrambled clumsily to her feet, refusing to acknowledge the soreness and dampness between her legs as she avoided his eyes. Stubbornly, she righted her vest and pushed her skirts back down over her legs, then searching the room for the original arch she had come in through. As she soon she found it, she left the Pirate King staring after her without a word. Her progress was slow and measured, and she tried not to look too hard at the various acts surrounding her. Instead she focused on her destination until she was finally through the door. Mayil's escort and one of the guard's were gone, but the other one who had escorted them earlier stood at attention when she appeared.

She couldn't speak to him, but it hardly mattered when he merely grunted and motioned for her to follow. Sparrow had no choice, she could not remember the way back herself. Mayil must have left him instructions, because he took her straight to the large, heavily guarded doors of the harem. Sparrow was pleased to see it was empty of all but one person. Mayil was just emerging from the back room with two large black wraps.

"Spairrow, I deed not theenk yu would... are yu all right?" she asked, looking closely at Sparrow's tear-streaked face.

"I'm fine," Sparrow said, dashing the moisture from her eyes with one stubborn fist. "I'm ready to leave when you are."

Mayil looked concerned, but wisely did not press the issue further. "Put thees on," she instructed, handing one of the wraps to Sparrow.

Sparrow did as instructed with trembling hands, additionally removing the gold bangles that jangled at her wrists and feet. Mayil motioned for her to follow and Sparrow did, straight to a stone wall that appeared unremarkable but for several woven tapestries that hung from the floor to the ceiling. Before Sparrow could fathom a question, Mayil simply pulled one to the side and revealed a narrow opening in the wall.

"Where does it go?" Sparrow asked.

"First wee weell come out een my father's chambairs here een the palace - oh, but du not worry. Hee ees steell enjoyeeng the partee," she explained hastily. "Yu can get almost anee whair from that area of the palace. Thair are other seecret doors een that room, and tu of them leed out of the palace. Wee'll take one that goes close by the harbor."

Sparrow nodded and slipped into the dark passage, which was dimly lit by the occasional torch. The pair hurried along, and Sparrow's hearing was even more sensitive in the near-darkness, but no sound reached them. The passage wound around and about, but cut a clear path until finally they were standing in the Prince's sumptuous chambers that were, as promised, empty. Sparrow did not stop to admire the decor, but followed Mayil to another stretch of stone wall, this one bare and unremarkable. She watched her guide pull down on a torch, and smoothly, with only the faint grinding of stone against stone, the wall slid away, revealing another passage, this one completely dark with an air of disuse and a single torch ensconced in a small alcove. Mayil took a torch from the chamber and lit the one inside the passage and returned the original torch. As they passed over the threshold together, Mayil took the lit torch from the alcove and the door automatically closed behind them.

"The door weell open when I reeturn the torch," Mayil explained as they rushed down the narrow corridor. Many stairs led them deeper into the earth, and the silence pressed in on them, forcing Sparrow to press on faster. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, she pushed back the despair in her heart over what she'd allowed happen with Reaver and equally ignored the pain that grew between her thighs as she walked. But in spite of herself, apart of her thrilled at her adventure. She hadn't felt so alive and aware since her days as the Hero of Bowerstone. And now here she was, planning a daring escape from the man who both allured and repulsed her at the same time.

As they emerged from a hidden exit on a cobbled street, Sparrow breathed the night air deeply, momentarily enthralled by the lights and sounds, by the strange scents and the beautiful native speech that floated to her from hundreds of voices. A tugging on her arm pulled her back to the moment, and she turned to Mayil.

"Will you wait for me here?" Sparrow asked. "I don't want you to get caught out here with me, and where I am going might not be the safest place."

Mayil nodded. "I weell wait right here unteel dawn. But I weell have tu return tu the palace then, before my absence ees noteeced."

Sparrow gave her a nod and pulled her wrap tighter around her. "Which way is the harbor?"

Mayil pointed her down a street and said, "Just follow thees road. Eet weell take yu straight down tu the docks."

With another nod of gratitude Sparrow pulled the wrap up to cover her hair and sped off down the road. The streets were still somewhat crowded, despite the late hour, but no one spared her a glance. She stayed to the shadows, remaining out of sight and wasting no time, her heart thrilling as the cool wind whipped by her. For a moment, she let go of the 'adult' Sparrow, who protected her town and took care of her responsibilities, and let herself become the much younger Sparrow she had once been, slipping through the night like a shadow, free to roam where ever she pleased. She almost laughed when, for a brief moment, she thought she heard the patter of paws trailing along beside her, but let the thought go, forgetting her soreness as she now ran and leaped through the shadows, completely free and invisible to everyone around her.

At last the harbor came in sight, and she flitted along the docks until she found the _Reaver II_. Stealthily, she slipped aboard, staying low, almost pressing her belly to the deck as she looked around for her prey. Suddenly she remembered; he had been on deck every single night she had. Her shimmering eyes flitted up, and in the crows nest, she saw a single silhouette against the night sky. Prowling along the bow, she skulked up along the foremast, using roped to pull herself up until she could swing over silently to the mainmast. The wind whistled around her and she landed with a soft _thud_ against the weathered wood of the gaff and moved stealthily along until she slithered next to her prey in the nest.

"Still keeping watch?" she asked calmly.

Alex spun around, but all alarm vanished from his face when he saw Sparrow leaning casually back against the railing. She looked up at him innocently and he groused, "I was expecting you to come. I see you still haven't lost your old talents."

"No, I suppose I haven't. Have you found out a way to get back to Albion?"

Alex raised an eyebrow at her strange behavior, and for the first time took in her appearance. Her skin was adorned with designs and cosmetics, but the makeup on her face was smeared around her eyes, and briefly he wondered what she had been getting up to. "Trade and passenger ships are frequent through this port. There is one leaving tomorrow for Westcliff."

She frowned at having to wait. "Then I will be on that boat, no matter what comes. I trust you will be coming?" she asked archly.

Alex nodded slowly, peering down at her. She had a strange scent about her, almost an aphrodisiac, but before he could ask she had slipped over the side of the railing and hung there. He looked at her over the edge, alarmed again, but she merely smiled up at him and said, "We'll need weapons. Find my gun. It should still be hidden in Reaver's cabin, but if you can't find it, bring whatever you can and meet me on the docks before the tide leaves." Alex nodded dumbly and watched her let go and fall silently down to the deck.

Sparrow landed easily, rolling to the side and stopping herself without uttering a noise. Quietly, she slithered back the way she had come, flying through the night until she found herself back where Mayil was waiting patiently for her. They were silent as they stepped into the Prince's chamber's inside the palace, where Mayil suddenly told her she would have to go the rest of the way alone.

"I must reeturn tu the royal house. But do not worry, yu cannot get lost."

Sparrow thanked Mayil before parting ways with her, and returned down the corridor that would lead her back to the harem. Her heart still raced inside her, and for the first time she took a moment to remember how alive she had felt tonight, running through the darkness, fearing capture, seeking freedom. But... this freedom would end back in Bloodstone, where once again she would take up her mantle of leadership. She started to sigh as she slipped back into the harem, but the sound ended on a choked gasp as she nearly leapt out of her skin.

"Having yourself a good evening, Sparrow?" a smooth voice asked, burning eyes pinning her with a leer. "And where exactly did you run off to?"

* * *

Author's P.S.: Okay, I know there was some less than subtle drug use in there, Opium to be exact, but remember, in some regions smoking around a hookah in that manner is a cultural thing, lol as is occasional less inhibited behavior I guess. I really hope you all enjoyed, and sorry for the cliffy ^_^ I think its my first, though. If you like leave a review on your way out.


	10. Desire, Thou Art Thief

Disclaimer: Whatever. You know it by now.

Author's Remark: Well it's a nice 95 degrees here in Phoenix tonight (thank you god for air conditioning), but in the exotic lands of Samarkand, its about to get even hotter. Originally I was going to tack this onto the end of last chapter, but what can I say; it was too long, and I feel like I've been waiting for updates for forever on stories I'm following. Now, to commence with more Reaver... and Sparrow, too. This is a slightly shorter chapter than usual, but its good (I hope).

Warning: More adult content ahead. If you don't like that, read as far as you're comfortable, then skip to the end.

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Chapter Ten

Desire, Thou Art Thief

* * *

"How did you get in here?" Sparrow sputtered numbly, trying not to betray her alarm. If he realized where she had been, the game was up!

"Sparrow, love, you didn't think a few menial harem guards would keep me from you, did you?"

Sparrow glared insolently at Reaver, all trace of shock quickly erased. She despised it when he talked to her that way, with the patronizing tones of a governess. With deliberate arrogance in her step, she walked a wide circle around Reaver to the back room, replacing her shawl with the others without answering him. He followed calmly, content to play her game for the moment; despite her insolence, the fire in her eyes pleased him more than the tears he'd witnessed earlier. "Answer me, Sparrow."

"I was minding my own business," she finally said, fixing him with a challenging glare. Reaver's answering smile was rapacious, and she felt a prickle go up her spine, but it only served to rile her further. "And who exactly are you to speak to question me that way?"

He stalked closer to her, moving slowly and indirectly, easing her into a corner as he spoke. "All right, Sparrow, I will play your little game. Since you don't want to talk about that, lets talk about you leaving me tonight when I'd won you for myself once and for all."

Sparrow felt her heart skip a beat as she'd remembered, too late, their bet, and tried her best to hide it, keeping her eyes steady with his. "You were hardly at a loss without me. You got what you wanted, and if that wasn't enough for you, there were plenty of men and women present to take care of your particular needs. You could have had anyone you wanted."

He continued to press closer, and soon Sparrow found herself backing away. "Hmm, yes, I could have... but I _wanted_ you, and you left me there... weeping as though I'd done you some great, person wrong." He breathed the last words against her ear as he pressed her against a stone wall, barring her with both arms but not yet touching her. "So I pursued you here, where your guard swore on pain of death he brought you, only to find you are no where to be found. I could only imagine that you found one of the secret passages - or someone helped you - so I decided to wait for you." He licked his lips, his eyes glittering down at her. "Obviously, you were unable to make your escape... or you realized your mistake and came running back to me."

Sparrow hissed defiantly, holding her hands up defensively between herself and the Thief. "You stay away from me," she demanded. "You did do a great wrong to me, and now I want no part of you!"

"Did I?" he asked. "Was it so wrong of me to bring you pleasure? To make you whimper and writhe beneath me? To make you want what only I can offer?"

"I _don't_ want any part of you!" she denied furiously. "After what you've done, I want _nothing_ from you! You drugged me, then bedded me like... like some strumpet! Where everyone could watch us!"

Reaver almost winced at that. Perhaps the locale had not been the best, but he'd needed her too much to take her elsewhere, and the delay might have given her time to talk herself out of it. "My sweet, all those present would have been much to distracted to be watching others, and if they had, what is the harm? You are lovely when you're flushed and warm with desire." Aroused by the mere memory, he pressed himself closer, wanting to touch her again, to feel their bodies melding.

"Stay away," she gasped as her breasts were crushed against him, alarmed at the sensations that pierced her breasts and coursed down to the place between her thighs.

"Why?" he asked silkily. "Do you trust yourself with me no longer?"

Her heart gave several hard leaps in her chest, but Sparrow shook her head defiantly. Reaver's smirk told her he saw through her denial. Deliberately, he lowered his lips until they hovered a mere inch from hers. He held her gaze, drowning in her eyes as he observed the desire and confusion flickering across her features. "You fight yourself so hard, denying yourself at every moment. But now we both know the truth, Sparrow," he murmured. "You are already mine. Why keep lying any longer?" She shivered and he pressed his advantage. "Kiss me, Sparrow, and if you can let me go, I'll forget everything that's happened tonight and leave you alone."

"Another game, Reaver?" she asked breathlessly, driven to distraction by the damned pirate. She couldn't think straight with him so close. If he would only leave her in peace until tomorrow, she would be free of him.

"Of course," he whispered, loosely tangling one hand through her hair to tilt her face up to his. "But if you don't, then I cannot promise I will stop. I am not accustomed to denying myself, and now that I have had you, I only desire you more," he mused, almost to himself as his eyes stroked her soft features. "You are becoming the only thing I think of. I cannot stop myself from wanting you."

Sparrow bit her lip, her heart beating even faster. What was Reaver saying to her? "That is nothing but an obsession."

"Call it what you will, my love," he breathed, his eyes dark and smoldering.

Swallowing her misgivings, she said, "Just one kiss?"

He nodded. "One kiss." She lifted trembling hands to his face, hesitating only moments before closing the space between them, until she felt the soft, warm surface of his lips against hers. An answering heat scorched through her, leaving her lightheaded and scattered, her lips instinctively parting for his. Reaver almost smiled in triumph, her small gasp all the urging he needed to ravish her mouth, building slowly, merely teasing her tongue with his before delving deeper, until she whimpered under his assault. Her palms slid over his shoulders of their own volition, both anger and reason deserting her under the Thief's touch. She didn't want to fight him. Or herself.

Her tongue met his stroke for stroke, and her body sang with the heat scalding her wherever he touched. Abruptly, Reaver withdrew from her, pinning her under his marauding gaze. Sparrow stared back at him, unable to read his expression. It was so intense she felt the urge to look away, but he wouldn't let her, seeming to look into her soul, as though searching for something. What, she couldn't fathom, but it drew her deeper, and she whimpered as her body tightened painfully in response.

"Is that a 'yes', my love?" he asked huskily, his hands caressing her skin. "Will you give in to what we both desire?"

Sparrow groaned. "I can't think straight -"

"Don't think, Sparrow, _feel_," he said, "feel the way I need you, the way we burn together."

Even as he said the words, she the heat inside her grew even more ferocious. It shocked her to realize she _wanted_ to burn with him, wanted him to fill the emptiness inside her.

"Say yes, Sparrow," the Pirate murmured, now brushing his lips back and forth over hers. "End this. Say yes."

Sparrow tried to say no, but the word got caught in her throat. Just once more, she could taste this kind of passion... he would believe he had her forever, and then tomorrow she would flee, would return to her own life...

"Promise you won't kill me when you tire of me," she said, her voice a low whisper and her heart beating in her throat.

Reaver was silent for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together slightly before he finally murmured, "I'm not certain if I will."

Sparrow swallowed hard. "Will what?"

"Tire of you."

Sparrow felt only confusion at those words, but Reaver's lips fused with hers once more, and she almost forgot the conversation entirely. Reaver spun her away from the wall and gently eased her down on one of the large, plush rugs littering the room, following her down to kneel between her thighs, stopping to look down at her where she lay beneath him.

Sparrow's skin flushed faintly as Reaver undressed her with his eyes, the ocean-blue orbs roaming over every line and curve, his hands absently caressing her thighs before they began to tug at the fabric of her skirt.

"This time, I shall love you properly... no prying eyes, just the two of us together." Tenderly, he unwrapped the skirt from her, throwing the flame colored silk aside while his fingers traced over the scaled, gold rope around her hips. He decided to leave it for now, his attention roaming further up her body, noting the delicate flushing of her skin, before settling on her waist. His fingers traced up under her breasts, then higher to once again pull the cords holding her vest on, and he took it from her.

Sparrow lay nude but for the gold trinkets adorning her body and hair, supine and vulnerable beneath the Thief. She shivered self-consciously, almost frightened by the intense fixation in his eyes as he looked down at her. He assessed her body as he slowly pulled off his robe, allowing it to fall to the floor in a soft whisper. Her cheeks flushed further as her eyes were pulled down to his sculpted chest. His body really was something to admire, though she couldn't bear the fallout of his ego to tell him. But his eyes were smug none the less, his gaze eventually coming back to lock with hers once more. She offered him no resistance, hiding nothing as she met his regard head on. A faint smile appeared at his lips and he bent down to hover over her, the heat from his skin burning her though he did not touch her.

"You are beautiful, Sparrow," he whispered simply, without embellishment. "It is a pleasure to look upon you, so exposed and shameless."

With a tenderness she never knew him capable of, Reaver pressed his lips to hers again, his touch almost reverent. Her body answered almost instantly, her back arching, lifting her bodily against him. Both groaned at the skin on skin contact, and Reaver plundered her mouth without reservation.

Keeping his patience, he kissed a burning trail down her throat, stopping only to nibble on the soft skin before continuing on. One bedeviled hand caressed the curve of her hip before gliding up to cup her soft breast. Gently, he teased her nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He could feel her shiver against him as he drew it into his mouth, suckling mercilessly. When he first heard his name fall from her lips, he lifted his head and focus on her other nipple, watching his fingers twist and tease as it hardened for him.

"I made a promise to you that I would teach you the proper way to cry out my name," he said to her, despite his apparent distraction. "You were sleeping, but I intend to honor that promise, too. That was good, but I know we can do better."

Before she could reply, or even think about his words, he took her other nipple in his mouth, blessing it with the same attention until her trembling became almost violent, her hips instinctively bucking against his.

"Reaver..." she pleaded huskily. "Reaver, please..."

He released her nipple, lifting his head and meeting her eyes with a cocky smile. "What is it, Sparrow my love?" he asked, his tone implying the purest sincerity while his lips smiled tauntingly. "What is it you want from me?"

Her face was both guilty and embarrassed despite the blatant hunger in her eyes. "I want you to love me."

Reaver looked away from her, leering down at her body as his hands lifted her legs up to wrap around his hips. Her slick folds were completely exposed, and he traced his finger lightly over them. A shudder wound its way up her.

"Like this?" he whispered, captivated by the way her body trembled at his lightest touch.

She moaned in response, and he felt her legs tighten around him. Lifting his eyes to her face, he saw her watching him, the stark, unashamed need in her eyes slamming through him. Closely observing her expression, he slipped one finger gently inside her folds, careful of her soreness, finding and gently stroking the small, slick nub. Her eyes squeeze shut as his finger teased her, and she heard a low growl rumble deep in his throat as she once again became wet and slick. Sliding one digit deeper, he carefully slid into her, both of them trembling in unison as once again her walls tightened around him. He gently slid another finger in next to the first, setting a slow rhythm, watching every sensation he gave her, displayed openly on her face. Taking the small risk, he picked up the pace, pleased when he detected no pain. She was tightening around him again, moaning and whimpering as he gently stretched her. Deliberately, he slammed his fingertips against the sensitive spot inside her, knowing how fast it would drive her insane with desire.

"Reaver!" she cried, half-mad with pleasure as he drove his fingers into her even harder, hitting the spot again and again. She couldn't stand it, but she couldn't stop. A burning had started deep inside her again, and each time Reaver hit that spot it flared even hotter, consuming her. She licked a drop of sweat off her lip, her body burning in delicious torment.

As he removed what little was left of his clothes, his eyes were fixated on her face, each spasm from deep inside her flitting across her features to mesmerize him. She almost panicked when she felt his shaft at her entrance again, and she stiffened involuntarily.

Gently, he tried to reassure her. "Relax, my sweet."

"Will it hurt again?" she whispered.

He decided to be truthful. "It should not, but you are still so small, there could be some discomfort." She nodded her understanding, and he looked into her eyes once more for ascent before driving himself deep into her in one long thrust. Her cry had the edge of pain in it, and he held himself still, intending to wait until she was ready; he kissed her again, deeply, but briefly, tearing his lips away on a moan when suddenly moved her hips against his.

"Reaver, please don't stop now," he heard her plead, real panic in her voice, and he looked down at her with a diabolical smile before withdrawing and driving himself into her again, closing his eyes in ecstasy. This time he knew he need not hold himself back, and he thrust deeply into her, until her cries were echoing off the stone walls that surrounded them. He closed his eyes to revel in the sensations: her voice chanting his name; her body, still so tight and hot, squeezing the part of him the so desperately needed to be inside her; the distinctive slapping sounds of their hips coming together. Yet it wasn't enough for him. Growling, he took one nipple greedily into his mouth, biting into her soft flesh and sucking hard as he slammed harder into her. Finesse and patience had deserted him, so intense was his lust. Her hands pulled at his hair, holding him close as his hands reached down to grasp her buttocks, holding into place for his savage thrusts. Now he was more animal than man, taking her roughly as he sucked, groped, and fucked her as hard as he could. He knew he ought to be gentler, but he couldn't stop. He'd waited for too long, had used up what patience he'd had in her initial deflowering. Now he was mindless; there was no room for gentleness, not here, not now.

When he felt her sheath spasm unexpectedly around him, he groaned in satisfaction, allowing his seed to erupt inside her until he was completely drained.

When they finally lay together, languishing in each other's arms, having come down from the heights of pleasure, he looked into her eyes again, pleased to see no more tears, but instead a contended satiation. He smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, I see that you're all pleased with yourself," she murmured obligingly.

"Well, all things considered, love, I think aught to be," he said with complete seriousness. She rolled her eyes but the effect failed when she couldn't hold back a lazy smile. She was starting to drift away again when Reaver stood, lifting her with him. She winced in discomfort at such movement, but managed to steady herself on her feet. Somehow, she was even more sore now, so much that she could barely move, and worried that he might try to lay her again this very night.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he wrapped her in a dark shawl that covered her down to her ankles. He wrapped a similar one around his waist and said, "To my chambers. Unless you planned on having the Prince's harem girls joining us."

Her answer was a violent shake of her head, and he sighed theatrically, earning himself a glare. He smiled innocently, but when he saw she wasn't fooled, he kissed her instead, before wordlessly leading her by the hand, taking her from the harem and past its guards with no resistance. Sparrow blushed when she realized they had likely heard everything, and tried not to look any of them in the eye as they passed.

Reaver's chamber wasn't far, though Sparrow was hopelessly lost by the time they got there, content and tired as she was. She first noticed the room was large and circular, with a large circular bed at its center. A sheer canopy floated over it, and Sparrow sniffed at the opulence, but couldn't stay irritated as Reaver pulled her down into its soft covers, holding her close after dispensing with their 'clothes'. Dizzily she drifted off as his heat seeped into her, somewhere in her dreams knowing the Thief had taken more than her innocence this night.

* * *

Author's Note: For those of you who are wondering, this _is_ going somewhere ^_^ I've actually got an interesting story ahead, more lands of Samarkand (which I am doing some cultural research for to get some good ideas for), I'm considering bringing in Hammer and/or Garth, then a few twists and turns, and definitely some more deep development between Sparrow and Reaver. Oh and don't worry, Commander Daniels will be reentering the picture soon. This may be a different angle than most authors take, but my goal here is to be _different_. Or rather, just my insane self. I really hope you're still enjoying, and for those who are inclined please let me know what you think about this chapter. Until next time


	11. Flight of a Sparrow

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Author's Jot: Dear readers, I keep promising myself I'm gonna write a good long chapter for you guys, but this one just wasn't it. Really this is just moving forward with the plot. But I really hope you enjoy it. And I left you on a nice cliffy too ^_^ But I'm nice enough to forewarn. A very big thank you to my reviewers, of course.

Warning: Adult content ahead.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Flight of a Sparrow

* * *

Lashes fluttering weakly, Sparrow pried her eyes open, wincing as the light of late morning hit her sensitive pupils. _Ugh_... _my head_... _Where am I_? she wondered groggily, taking in her peculiar surroundings. She tried to move, but her body was sluggish, not responding well to her directions. _What - happened to me_? She was so warm she didn't want to move, but she mustered her strength, forcing herself upright, and was immediately slammed hard into reality when a heavy arm slid across the bare skin of her waistline, pulling her back half-heartedly. Perplexed, she looked down to see the nude form of Reaver sleeping beside her, one arm slung over her waist and one leg still intertwined with hers. With stark clarity, the night before came flooding back to her, and she found herself unable to breathe. _I - I couldn_'_t have... I wouldn_'_t -_ Her thoughts were promptly cut off when his arm tugged on her again, this time pulling her back down beside him.

"Stop thinking so hard..." he suspired languidly, his lips brushing her temple. "You'll ruin a perfectly good morning."

Sparrow swallowed, unable to speak, but found her voice again hastily when the Pirate's lips drifted along her cheekbone and brushed her lips.

"Reaver," she gasped, trying to put some distance between them, but the Thief bound his arms around her, opening his eyes to smile triumphantly.

"Oh no, I'll be having none of that, love," he admonished gently, "seeing as I've won our little wager."

It was a claim she could not deny, as much as she would have liked, and he took advantage of her silence, affectionately nuzzling her neck before she could endeavor another retreat. "Do not fret so," he whispered against her ear. "Have I not already proven just how well I will love you?"

Sparrow shivered, her blood already warming under his touch as more intimate details of their illicit night together crowded her mind. She could see clearly the way he had looked at her, could feel how gentle yet demanding he had been, making her burn from inside while being scalded and consumed by his own desire. A faint moan escaped her lips and she fought the urge to melt into his arms and let him carry on, but she was immediately filled with shame. _By Avo_,_ I acted like a fool last night_. She had done everything she had sworn she wouldn't. She'd let him have her, not once, but twice. Her shame was so great that she wanted to deny it had ever happened, yet here she was, the truth as inescapable as the corroborative soreness between her thighs. What had gotten into her? She had discarded restraint so easily, so _carelessly_. She had all but thrown herself into his arms! Her teeth bit hard into her bottom lip as she tried to hold herself together.

As her thoughts spun around her head, Reaver sighed and decided to take action, abruptly tossing Sparrow on her back and covering her body with his own, disrupting her thoughts. Pinning her green eyes with his blue ones, he propped himself on his elbows, trapping her securely beneath him.

"I can practically hear doubts and fear buzzing around inside that pretty little mind of yours like a horde of giant wasps," he said dryly, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Now, why don't you just spit them out so we can enjoy the rest of our time waking up together, hmm?"

Sparrow swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she felt anxiety added to the tension building inside her. They were pressed intimately together, bare skin against bare skin, but the Pirate was clearly awaiting her answer, so she tried to form her thoughts coherently. But what could she say? What words could explain away her behavior last night? "Reaver, I..." she swallowed hard. "About last night... I - I don't know what got into me -"

The beguiling twist of his lips brought her words to a halt. "You were magnificent, Sparrow," he murmured silkily. "I thought it was the Avenger challenging me all over again. It was the Sparrow I once knew, come forward from behind that rigid mantle of responsibility and leadership." Sparrow felt her cheeks grow warm, and lowered her eyes. Even if he was right, that didn't absolve her.

Reaver watched the thoughts flitting behind Sparrow's eyes and decided he'd had enough. Before she could protest, he cupped her face in his hands and crushed her lips beneath his, immediately earning her full regard. He could feel her hands tugging at his hair, but he held her prisoner and ignored her struggles, biting her lower lip with his sharp teeth. Before she could release a gasp of pain, his tongue was through the slight part of her lips, claiming her mouth ravenously, though it had only been hours since he had last known her taste. Unwilling to deny himself, he tasted her until long after her struggles ceased, until they were both moaning and breathless. When he'd finally slaked that thirst, his lips moved on, pausing at the hollow of her throat to kiss the delicate skin there. He wanted to taste more.

"Reaver." She whimpered his name, torn somewhere between denial and need. Why couldn't she be passive to his touch? She ought to be. She had every reason to despise him right now, but instead she was writhing under him like any other harlot he had taken to his bed. A sudden lump formed in her throat at the thought. He handled her like he'd handled countless men and women before her. And she had given in so easily. Was she so desperate, so alone that she would accept being the Thief's toy to ease her isolation? Where was her pride? Her fortitude?

Desperately, she tried to push at his shoulders, but instead her fingers clung to him, her back arching into him as his fingers gently slid inside her. She winced as the sharp pain and discomfort, but he was already stroking her gently, moaning as her juices flowed readily onto his fingers. When he lowered his head between her thighs, she became alarmed and fought harder against him, but her garbled pleas ended in a sharp gasp when she felt his moist tongue touch her soft, smooth folds and give one long, lazy lick upwards. Her whole body froze in shock, and the Pirate took the opportunity to repeat the motion. Her hips bucked sharply in response to the contact, and she tried to slam her thighs shut, to force him away, but his response was to wrap his hands around each of her thighs and wrench them apart. This position allowed him to hold her hips in place with ease, and he went back to his feast, thoroughly exploring her slick folds with his tongue. He kissed them and lapped at them and plied them about, but refused to delve into them until he felt her tremble in his hands, until her hips were struggling against his grip, subconsciously trying to raise themselves toward the source of their pleasure. He then inserted the tip of his tongue into the base of her slit, then slowly dragged upwards, just barely grazing the sensitive nub that was still hidden away from him.

Her cry of shock echoed around the room at that lightest touch, but when she would have raised her hips to bring him deeper into her, she felt his tongue return to it's previous game of licking her folds. Her sheath was painfully tight, and her even her skin was burning in its sensitivity. Her breasts ached and her nipples throbbed in unison with her swollen nub, and for a brief moment she could clearly see his lips drawing one rosy peak into his mouth, could almost feel him suckling at her. Releasing a pitiful cry, she buried her fingers in his hair and tried to drag him away from her, but her entire body was trembling and her attempts had no effect whatsoever. Once again his tongue slipped between her folds and grazed that sensitive nub of flesh, and then almost immediately did it again.

She cried his name, writhing helplessly beneath his mouth, and in response he flicked the tip of his tongue against her nub repeatedly, lashing at it without mercy, but it wasn't enough. She was almost sobbing his name now; she could hear herself begging, but she was too far gone to care. She couldn't bear it anymore, she just wanted it to end, but he continued to flay her sensitive flesh. She was too tight, too hot... Finally, he released her legs, but she did not try to escape... she couldn't. Instinct had taken over now; when he spread her fold apart with his nimble fingers, leaving her most sensitive flesh completely exposed to him, he began lick and flay her nub in earnest, and her hips rocked in the rhythm of his tongue; she could hear the embarrassingly wet sound of him lapping at her; it filled the room, she couldn't block it out, but somehow it only served to make to body burn hotter, until she finally felt something unfurling inside her, winding her tighter, bringing her closer and closer to the peak of her release.

"Reaver, please -" Her words were hoarse and almost incoherent. "I - I can't -"

He ignored her protest, and on impulse, she looked down at where her head was buried between her thighs. She could just see his pink tongue where it met with her folds; the very sight of it fondling and lapping sinfully at her most intimate flesh was so erotic her body immediately began to convulse, tearing a helpless scream from her lips. Her head flew back as she cried his name over and over, and only when she lay panting, her limbs languid and useless, did he raise himself up to hover over her once more, his blue eyes searching hers as he lifted her legs high in his arms, hooking her knees over his elbows. She stared up at him, shame conflicting with lust.

"My love, don't feel shame for giving in to your desires," his breathed, his need for her so intense that his voice came out hoarse and unsteady. He stroked her hair away before kissing her lips hungrily. She was so beautiful to him with her cheeks flushed and her eyes devouring him, despite her inner struggle. Gently, he eased himself into her, gritting his teeth for control as he watched her face for a hint of pain. In this position he was able to go even deeper, and a hiss of ecstasy escaped his lips as her dripping walls tightened around him, as though to lock him inside. Steeling himself, he drew out of her again, almost smiling as she groaned at the loss.

"Don't fret, my love, we're far from finished," he promised, then drove into her again, a little harder, setting an easy pace that left her breathless and inflamed. It wasn't enough, he knew it, but it kindled a desperate ache, and before long she was bucking against him once more, imploring him to go faster. He denied her, keeping his pace leisurely, holding her hips in place until she quivered around him, her voice chanting his name in supplication. Groaning in satisfaction, he picked up his speed, earning a cry of delirium each time he slammed into her. It wasn't long before her felt her convulse once more and he lost himself in her, driving into her mindlessly until he followed her, his seed shooting deep inside where she could never get him out of her.

Satiated, he rolled to her side, pulling her trembling body close to his. Sparrow buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to catch her breath and as she drifted back down to her body.

* * *

The hour was getting late and Reaver still wouldn't let her leave the party. Sparrow was quickly becoming edgy. After she had awoken for a second time in the Pirate's arms, she had laid there for at least an hour, afraid to move lest she waken him, and took a good, hard look at her situation. She hated herself for being so weak when it came to the Thief, but she quickly realized that self hatred wasn't going to do her any more good than self pity. What was done was done, and she couldn't take it back, and there was even a small part of her that wouldn't take it back even if she could; she had never known such intimacy was possible, and though she had not desired it with the Thief, she knew she would always carry the memory in her heart. But to allow it to torment her further would only make her further susceptible to the Pirate's advances, something she did not intend to allow again.

The most obvious issue was making her escape successfully tonight. She had to get away from him and soon. Everything else had to come second to that. She knew her way out. Of course, she hadn't known she would be required to attend another party tonight, but here she was, lounging in the lap of the Pirate King while they shared a mouthpiece from the smoking vase.

Just as she despaired that she wouldn't be able to get away from the Pirate, the women stood to separate themselves from the gathering, and she took her chance, standing so abruptly Reaver didn't get a chance to stop her. The Pirate merely looked up at her with an amused smile.

"You don't wish to stay?" he asked innocently.

Sparrow shook her head wordlessly, praying he wouldn't insist, but he merely nodded. "Your guard will take you back to our room," he said.

With a smile that was surprisingly genuine, she said, "Take your time. Enjoy the party. I am rather tired. I could use a... a rest."

Reaver's laughter followed her as she followed the other women, and she fought the urge to increased her pace until she was through the door. Her burly guard was immediately on the other side, standing against the wall with his arms crossed and his unchangeable, stern expression. When he saw her he nodded his head with a grunt and took off walking, expecting her to follow, which, of course, she did. As soon as they reached Reaver's chamber, she shut the door firmly behind her and looked about the room. _Now_,_ to find a way out of here._ Her first thought was the balcony, and she immediately rushed over to it, only to stare in dismay at the distance to the ground below. Apparently she was in one of the spires, because the drop was mind-numbingly far. Her fall from the crow's nest was nothing compared to this, and though she was a Hero and should still survive, she hadn't truly been a Hero in over a decade. She was bound to be a little rusty.

Putting that thought away as a last resort, she turned back to the room around her. The chamber was tuned to Reaver's tastes, mixed with an exotic flare, and she knew he had to have used these same rooms before. And if she knew the Thief, he had to have a direct connection to the harem from here. Immediately she searched the nearest wall, gradually moving around the room as she thoroughly moved, pushed, and pulled every torch, lever, stone, and tapestry. Panic rose in her chest when no hidden passes were revealed.

_Where would a harem girl enter the room from if not the door or wall_? Immediately her eyes were drawn to the circular bed, placed in the very center of the room. _What an odd shape for a bed_. For that matter, what an odd shape for a room. How many rooms were circular? Crawling towards the bed, realizing that the sheets fluttered around the base. Lifting the silk revealed it to be raised on a stone platform. Excited once more, she made her way around it, finally locating a small opening large enough for a woman or a small man to fit through. Heart pumping in her chest, she stuck her head inside and saw that it was a straight drop down several feet, with indentations carved in the wall for climbing. She eagerly lowered herself in and let herself drop, hitting the bottom quietly. She was in a tunnel like the ones she had been in last night, and she quickly took off at a sprint, lifting her skirt up to her hips to make it less hazardous. It only took minutes to reach the harem. Cautiously, she eased the tapestry covering the entrance aside and peered around the room.

The harem was completely empty. Of course; the girls were at the party. Grimly, she realized that Reaver was likely enjoying himself with one or more of them right now. And for some stupid reason, the realization put a knot in her gut. Stubbornly, she told herself no one would like having the guy you were just intimate with jumping into bed with someone else within the same twenty-four hours, but _she_ had no reason to feel anything. It wasn't like she had wanted it, and maybe now that he had had her, he would move on to someone else and let her leave in peace.

Vainly using that thought as comfort, she fully entered the harem and located the tapestry that would take her to the Prince's chamber. Soon. Soon, she would be free of him.

* * *

The Thief watched appreciatively as his favored courtesan from his previous visits sought him out. He had always thought her such a lovely creature, so intoxicating and willing to do anything to please him, but as his lips melded with hers, he was forced to immediately draw back. _Peculiar_. Again, and rather forcibly, he kissed her, but the moment he tasted her, he was repelled. Frowning inwardly, he moved on from her mouth, kissing her dark skin, but his thoughts repeatedly returned to the parting smile Sparrow had left him with. He should have made her stay. He knew after this morning he had not yet sated his need for her, but he'd never thought for a second his need for her would make him indifferent to other women. Shoving the girl away, he quickly looked over the Prince next to him with the chief courtesan. She was truly an exotic beauty, but his eyes were for the Prince himself. Smoothly he joined into their activities, but even as Rajeev touched him, the courtesan sharing her attentions between them, his body reacted indifferently. What the hell was the matter with him? Stubbornly, he forced his lips on the Prince, who eagerly accepted them, but there was nothing. What witchery was this?

Jerking himself away angrily, he looked around the room, his eyes seeking something he knew he would not find there. He needed Sparrow. Apparently he could not continue his usual activities until he had appeased himself of her.

His course set, he stood to his feet and left without a word.

* * *

Sparrow breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted the tall figure of Alex skulking around the docks. He was hard to spot, dressed in dark clothes like herself and waiting in the shadows. Quietly she approached him, from an angle where he would see her coming, and smiled when she finally stood before him.

"Cut it close enough, did you?" he asked.

Sparrow's smile fell, and she glowered up at him. "I'm lucky I made it at all, since you've brought it up. Did you find my gun?"

Alex shook his head regretfully. "I don't know what he did with it, but it was not on that ship. All I could get was a spare cutlass."

Sparrow sighed regretfully but accepted the weapon and said, "Shall we?"

Alex nodded, but stopped her from walking away when he headed towards the nearest ship. "It is the one at the far end," he said, shaking his head.

Sparrow mumbled an apology. "I'm just a bit giddy, I suppose," she explained quietly as they walked. "I almost _didn_'_t_ make it. I had to get away from the party, find a secret passage out of his chambers, and then run all the way to get here in time."

Alex nodded, taking her under his arm in a rare gesture of comfort. "Soon this will just be a bad memory, Sparrow."

She smiled up at him, and he gave her a real smile in return. Sparrow's breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. It was so strange how easy this felt. Even if she hadn't loved him, she hadn't forgotten how close she and Alex used to be. He had been good to her, and look at how poorly she had repaid him.

"I'm going to make it up to you," she suddenly promised as they boarded the ship. It was enormous, a merchant ship from what she could tell. She'd bet it was carrying a full hold; the ship was riding low on the water, but much of it would be supplies and fresh water. She watched him pay their fare, and a young boy took them below to led them to a small cabin.

"You don't need to make this up to me. You've already promised me sanctuary and a place on your ship if I want it," he said. He closed and bolted the door behind them. "I'm sorry we have to share. I only had enough gold for one cabin."

Sparrow shrugged and shook her head. "It's fine." She sat on the double bed. It was comfortable enough, but she didn't care about that. She looked up at Alex, who seemed unsure what to do with himself. Uncertainly, he walked over to the small porthole and said, "It seems we're setting sail."

Surprised, she blurted, "Already?"

He nodded. "You were actually a little late. I had to ask the captain to wait for you. He was getting ready to leave without us when you arrived."

Embarrassed, she muttered another apology. He shrugged it off. "It works out better for us if we leave immediately after boarding anyway. We want to get as far away from here as soon as possible."

She couldn't argue with that. "I agree. But I don't think he'll come after me. He should be well occupied with the Prince's harem."

Alex turned back to her, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "He might. He might not. Depends how much of a head start we get on him, and how badly he wants to keep you."

"He was enjoying the party when I left. We should get several hours head start, at the least." After a pause, she added, "This was quite a risk for you to take. I really will make it up to you. And I don't just mean this," she added when he seemed ready to interrupt.

He frowned. "Then what -"

"Everything," she blurted. "I... everything."

His frown deepened until realization dawn on him, and he sighed, walking forward and kneeling before her. "That's not something you can make up, Sparrow. My feelings for you were real, and deep down something of them still lingers." His hand reached up to brush her cheek, but en route accidentally touched her shoulder, drawing her wrap away from her neck and shoulders. His eyes were instantly riveted to the exposed area, immediately taking in every bruise, scratch, and bite mark in fine detail before she could catch the fabric and cover herself.

His eyes immediately locked to hers once more, his gentle smile gone, replaced with a peculiar look Sparrow couldn't interpret. She found herself suddenly apprehensive, his eyes were shadowed with something indefinable... almost insubstantial, but it was familiar in a way that sent a chill up her spine. She dared not move, having the sudden impression of a rabbit locked with the eyes of a predator. If she looked away, he would pounce.

After several moments, Alex stood and quietly left the cabin. Sparrow let out her breath, suddenly reconsidering the sanity of her plan. Not that it mattered at the moment, as they were already out in open water. Aside from that, she only needed to patiently endure the voyage and the waiting.

* * *

Alex Kinkaid put as much distance between himself and Sparrow as he could, somehow colder than the winds around him. He couldn't make sense of it. She had lost her game with the Pirate, that much was obvious. He had warned her. She should have been more cautious. But her damn Hero pride made her think she was invincible. _Or maybe that isn_'_t it_, a cold voice inside him whispered._ Perhaps she really does want him_._ The only woman you truly loved_,_ who was meant to be yours_,_ chose the ruthless Pirate King over you_. The thought left him colder still, his heart seeming to stall in his chest. He stalked his way to the stern of the ship, watching the horizon disappearing behind them. The night was almost completely dark, only a slip of moon left in the sky. Tomorrow it would be completely dark.

Drawn from his thoughts, his eyes caught a dark shape on the horizon, directly behind them. Quickly, he ducked below, knowing instinctively what was behind looming out of the mist. He hadn't expected this. He stormed a path to their cabin, to Sparrow. He wasn't sure what to do, but he needed to act. He couldn't let the Pirate take her from him forever.


	12. A Furor at Sea

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable. Do I have to put this on every chapter?

Author's Entry: I'm so sorry for the long wait. Omg what a horrible month or two this has been (I don't even know how long exactly, that should tell you something.). My Muse up and abandoned me, and I was sick, and then upset, then gloriously inebriated, then sick again, and at best I could only force out 300 words in a night. In between the 8 - 15 nights where I couldn't get anything written. But I finally put the finishing touches on and hopefully this means my Muse is back and life is moving on.

Oh, and Reaver may seem a bit irrational here, but that's Reaver, and I don't think this night is going particularly well for him. But I really am perfectly horrible. I mean, I didn't exactly see this coming, or maybe I did, but it is terrible. You'll see what I'm blabbering about when you get to the end. Not for those of a tender age, or mentality.

Warning: Adult content ahead, and not exactly the consensual kind. It's not _too_ graphic but look away if you're squeamish just to be on the safe side. There is going to be a change in the winds, says I.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

A Furor at Sea

* * *

Standing stoically at the helm, the Thief stared out over the cold, dark water, his face an expressionless mask but for the two dark, burning eyes fixed relentlessly on his quarry. With each passing second he gained on her, pushing every man and his vessel. He was the King of the waters, no ship was more seaworthy than his own. A mocking voice asked him what he was doing. It told him she was nothing. Letting her leave was the best course, and the easiest. He would be able to pick up with his life once more, the way it was before _she_ had disrupted it.

But another part of him – a part both sinister and merciless – had broke inside him when he'd found her gone. He almost shuddered inside at the memory. He'd felt the room's emptiness the moment he'd opened the door. Sparrow was not here. He had stood there for a full minute, silent and still, and he had known she had left him. Had _run away_ from him. Something seemed to vanish inside him at that moment, though he wasn't sure what. But a desolate pit had been left in its place, and to escape being swallowed whole by it, he had immediately stormed from the room in pursuit of her. It didn't take a simpleton to know she would try to make her escape by sea. She didn't know the lands in this part of the world, and it was the most direct route, her only real option.

He'd suspected she would attempt something like this. He should have stopped her. He'd known she was up to something when she'd disappeared last night, and this was the most likely possibility he had contemplated while waiting for her to return. But somehow he had known then that she would come back, just how tonight he knew she wouldn't. Again, he berated himself, something he wasn't entirely used to doing. But Sparrow had a way of keeping him off balance, and their passion last night had seemed to true, so _real_. The most real passion he'd experienced since his days of youth. He'd thought the feeling had come from her. But it was a lie. And now, after she was _his_, she thought to escape him. Naive little Sparrow. Treachery never had sat well with the Pirate King.

* * *

Sparrow jumped to her feet, alarmed as Alex stormed unannounced into their shared cabin. The look in his eyes told her immediately that something was amiss. Unconsciously she took a step back from him as his unsettling eyes fixed on her.

"Alex, what's wrong?" she asked quietly, as though afraid loud noises might startle him.

"He's followed you."

The blood drained from her face as she digested those three words. "How is that possible? He was supposed to be preoccupied for hours," she fretted, her mind whirling dizzily as she clutched the post of the bed for support. Her heart was pounding like a hunted rabbit's. Firmly she reminded herself that she couldn't afford to panic. She had to act. If Reaver was coming after her, Alex could be in mortal danger. "You should hide," she whispered. "If he finds me alone, it'll be none the worse, but if he sees you helped me, he'll likely kill you."

Alex laughed, startling Sparrow out of her reverie. The sound was harsh and cruel, and she stared at him in confusion. "This is no laughing matter. You should get out of here. Now."

His lips twisted cruelly. "Is the famous Avenger afraid of a jealous lover?"

Sparrow shook her head, even more confused, but quickly becoming impatient. "We don't have time for this. I need to get above deck and talk to the Captain. He should get the passengers and crew below deck while I deal with this."

She made to walk around him, her heart already pounding in anticipation of the coming storm, but was surprised when a solid arm knocked her back. She glared at Alex in annoyance. "What is your problem, Alex? Don't you understand I have to go before that maniac kills everyone on this ship and hunts us down like the sitting ducks we are?"

"Don't be naive, Sparrow. He'll have known I helped you the second he noticed I wasn't aboard. The Hero of Skill misses nothing." Distractedly, he pulled away the dark silk covering her neck, fixating on the fresh bruises and bites on her skin. "So what happened, Sparrow? You give yourself to him, he moves on in less than one day, and you run away, hurt, making him chase after you?" With a flash of his hand he was gripping the roots of her hair in a tight fist. He jerked her toward him, lifting her to her toes until his eyes were boring into hers. She stared into them in shock, mesmerized by the swirling darkness inside them. "Did you leave him a farewell letter? No? Not even that. It seems Reaver isn't being taken for half the fool I was."

Sparrow flinched at his words, stunned by the venom dripping from them. "Alex, you know it wasn't like that –"

"He's not a fool, Sparrow. He's coming after you," he said as though she hadn't spoken, his voice resonating strangely as the Shadow pulled her in. She had seen this before, but these eyes were different, somehow more terrifying. "He's coming for you, and he'll kill me."

"Not if I go now and stop him –"

"You won't be stopping anyone, Sparrow. He's going to come onto this ship and he will take you away from me."

Without further warning Sparrow felt her lips crushed cruelly under his as his tongue forced itself between her teeth. She immediately tried to bite down, but as soon as she could think it his hand tightened in her hair, making her gasp in pain. He took full advantage of her mouth, making no effort to be gentle in his punishment. Her hands pushed at his shoulders, and when that failed then pulled at his hair painfully, but it only pushed him onward, pushing her back until he had her pinned against the wall of the cabin.

His hands were everywhere, hurting her in his lust and rage. He was going to escape with her, he'd planned it in his mind, he'd be close to her again, maybe close enough to catch his flighty Sparrow, but now the Thief was coming to take her. There was no way to escape him on this ship. This was her fault. _Her fault_, the darkness whispered inside him. Another wave of righteous fury rolled through him and he grasped her breast tightly in his hand, swallowing her cry of pain. _She deserves your hatred_._ She deserves to be punished_._ You_'_l__l die tonight_,_ but you will have her_.

His hips thrust into hers aggressively and Sparrow began to thrash in alarm. He drew back from her biting teeth long enough to slam her violently against the wall before ravaging her mouth again, his hands tearing at the delicate silks covering her until her blouse hung from her shoulders in strips.

Desperately, Sparrow flattened her palms against his chest, pushing with all her limited physical strength, her mind screaming. Then, without warning, a strange heat passed through her palms she felt Alex stiffen against her, his whole body seizing under her hands until she let go of him in shock. Alex sagged to the floor, and Sparrow stared down at him, her eyes wide and her lips speechless. Then without pausing to think, she darted around his inert body, dashing through the door and down the narrow halls until she stood above deck where a horrible sight greeted her. Reaver's ship was already alongside their own. The crew seemed to have already thrown down their arms in surrender, but the Pirate himself paced back and forth in front of the line of sailors, his pistol pointed at each of them in turn. She could barely hear his voice over the wind and waves, but the pounding of footsteps coming up behind her spurred her into action. Praying her new found Will wouldn't fail her, she ran full tilt across the deck, leaping the last several feet to land between Reaver and the crew, at the same time turning about face to meet her attacker. Alex was yet several feet behind her. To her left, Reaver stared at her with mild surprise, but she paid him no heed. Instead she brought her hands crossed before her defensively, her palms out; one facing Reaver, the other at Alex. Reaver frowned at her strange actions, taking a moment to absorb her accosted appearance before turning to see one of his own crew advancing on them.

Alex. This betrayer had been the one to help her escape. Though he could hardly credit that Sparrow needed his help. So why had she brought him? A question that needed answering. In a flash his pistol was trained on Alex, who stopped his advance abruptly, though his deadly gaze never left Sparrow.

"Why did you bring the traitor?" Reaver asked.

Sparrow frowned, but did not spare him a glance. "He helped me."

"Do not tease me, Sparrow. You cannot convince me that you needed this nobody's help."

Alex let out a rough laugh. "She's reeled you in. Another poor fool falling for her act."

"What is the nobody blabbering about, Sparrow?"

Again Alex answered him, sneering at Sparrow who stared at him in disbelief. "We were in love. At least, I was. It seemed so real. But then she left me. I was foolish enough not to go after her until it was too late to catch her. But this time, she has run away with me. I'm afraid it was not meant to be, dearest Sparrow. Again you are leaving me, now that your lover has caught you."

Reaver felt the muscles in his jaw clench and the finger on his trigger trembled ever so slightly. Sparrow noticed it, too. "Reaver, don't. I asked for his help when I was tied to the mast. When my situation was very different."

"Then why is he here now?" His voice remained calm and even, but somehow sent a chill up her spine.

Sparrow spared him a hesitant glance, slowly and almost instinctively maneuvering to defend herself more effectively against either adversary. "I offered him a place on one of my ships. He said he was done with the pirate life, and for old times sake, I couldn't rescind the offer, even if I didn't need his help anymore."

Reaver's finger twitched again, but for some reason he didn't shoot. When Reaver said nothing, she suddenly found herself saying, "Reaver, you don't have to kill him. He means nothing to me."

"Then why plead for his life? Look at you. You wanted that?"

Sparrow flushed and for the first time broke eye contact as she looked down at her exposed chest, partially covered by tatters of silk, but quickly focused back on her target. "I'm not pleading for his life. I'm pleading for you not to kill."

Reaver froze at her words, then immediately fired one shot. The deafening report was followed by a scream from both Alex and Sparrow, but the latter fell silent in horror as a strange, black mist, or fog, seeped from the wounded sailor, who fell to his knees as his scream escalated. The Shadow grew and twisted into a vague form with only two burning red coals for eyes. Sparrow had only seen one thing like it before, and without thinking she called on the Will within her, and a single, constant bolt of lighting channeled from the tip of her finger. An angry, shrill cry filled the night air, and Sparrow concentrated harder, pushing her Will harder than she had in over a decade. The dark creature shrieked and flew at her, but it was already turning to ash under the hailstorm of arcane bolts. The searing lights ceased as abruptly as they had come, and Sparrow was left staring at Alex, who lay heaving on the deck, but surrounded by very little blood.

"You didn't have to do that."

The Pirate did not look at her, but said, "He will live. Are you going to come peaceably?"

Sparrow tested her Will reserves and sighed, then lowered her hands and nodded. _My Will has been drained_._ I don_'_t know if I can make that happen again_. "I have no weapon and can't fight you, nor can I run. And I assume you're not just going to give up and go away if I say no."

Reaver almost smiled, only the corner of his lip turning up. "Bretton, shackle this woman and take her to the brig."

Sparrow was surprised by his edict, but did not resist. Even as the large, blonde pirate fastened her shackles to the cell wall, the iron door was locked, and the stale stench of unwashed humanity enveloped her, she found no strength to struggle. She was his prisoner once more, but now it was different. That much was tangible. But he would come to her. For now she would regain her strength.

* * *

It was hours before the Thief felt stable enough to stand in her presence again. She lay curled up against the unforgiving iron bars of her cell, her hands shackled above her, sound asleep. He knelt down on one knee and cradled her face in the palm of his hands, lifting it up to his own. He could barely make out her features in the near darkness, but his gaze caressed her lingeringly. She had betrayed him, but he still had to have her. He couldn't even contemplate letting her escape, and she knew it. Had all but said it out loud. Did that give her power over him? A chill passed through the Pirate at the very thought. That was not possible. _No_, _I am not weak as He was_. _No man or woman will sway me_. No, she would not control him, and he would make certain she knew that beyond any doubt.

As though sensing a disturbance, her eyes opened. As soon as she looked up at him she tried to pull away, but his hands tightened, his index fingers pressing to her temples threateningly. "I wouldn't struggle if I were you, _darling_ Sparrow, some skills taught in this land would make your mind spin." Sparrow felt the intense pressure at her temples and immediately stilled, her eyes tightening in pain until his fingers released; but he held her still. "Never forget, Sparrow, that you will never control me."

Her lips twisted downward. "I don't know what you –"

"Never!" he snarled, his face inches from hers. "You ran away, betrayed me, and I came after you, but this does not mean you control me. I do not tolerate betrayal." Roughly he pulled her to her feet, and Sparrow groaned in pain as the blood rushed back to her arms.

"I _betrayed_ you?" she ground out, wondering what world he was living in, but Reaver's attention was drawn to the state of her blouse, hanging from her in loose shreds. Indignant, she tried to turn her back to him, but his hands flattened her to the bars, holding her in place. "What exactly did he do to you?" His voice was almost calm, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Hesitating slightly, she forced a calm voice and said, "Nothing I couldn't handle. He manhandled me a bit, but when he got to far I accidentally electrocuted him with my Will."

"I remember you threatening me with that once or twice when we first met. But then, you were always too focused on out shooting me. As if you could."

Sparrow almost smiled despite gravity of the situation, but was well aware of the threatening leer in his eyes, so she said nothing. After a minute of silence, he quietly asked, "Did he kiss you?"

Surprised by the question, her answer was an immediate, "No."

Reaver smirked for only a moment, then growled, "The truth, Sparrow."

"It doesn't matter."

His hand closed around her throat but didn't tighten, drifting gently up to her chin and down her throat again. "Answer me, Sparrow."

His eyes were Shadowed with madness despite his gentle touches, and then she quietly whispered, "Yes."

With a low growl he smashed his lips into hers, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth to wipe out all trace of the traitor, who she had convinced him not to kill. _I'm not pleading for his life_._ I'm pleading for you not to kill_. She didn't want him to kill. And he hadn't. He couldn't resist shooting the bastard, but he didn't kill him. He'd wanted to. He should have. But he didn't. His kiss turned furious, dominating her mouth with bruising force as he fought for the control she was trying to take away from him.

One hand reached down and hiked her knee up high around his waist as his other hand cupped her soft bottom and lifted her off the floor. Sparrow tried to break her mouth away from his, even tried to bite him, but he skillfully dodged her teeth while hiking up her other leg, causing her skirt to pool around her hips. Without preamble he thrust two fingers up into her dry passage, forcing them deep as Sparrow shrieked in pain, finally tearing her lips from his. "Stop! _Stop_! It _hurts_!" she cried, her legs trying to push away from him, but he was immovable and the bars behind her left her nowhere to retreat.

"Does it?" he asked mockingly, applying his thumb to her sensitive nub as his fingers pumped in and out of her. "This will make it better."

Sparrow renewed her struggles, but in seconds her juices were coating the intruding digits, allowing them to penetrate her easily without tearing her tender insides. But she found herself hating it all the same. "Reaver, don't do this! Don't ravish me!" Her hands struggled to be free of the shackles, but her arms were trapped behind her.

"Ravish you? By the gods, you are the ravisher," he ground out, forcibly jerking his trousers down until his aching cock sprung free from them. He pulled his fingers out of her and lowered her over his shaft until the tip was wedged in her narrow opening. "But now it is I who will have you. I want you, right here in this filthy cell, my beautiful treasure."

"I'm not yours, Reaver. You can't just take people like swag." Sparrow inwardly winced, hating the quaver in her voice.

"You put yourself up as the wager, and you lost the bet. Now you are my swag, here to fulfill my every need," he husked tightly before clutching her hips painfully. He violently impaled her, groaning as his cock tore into her ruthlessly. He took her hard and fast, offering her no gentleness. She was painfully tender and still too tight, but he turned a deaf ear to her screams, burying his face in her hair. He could feel his hips picking up the pace, mindlessly slamming into her over and over as he pressed her further into the unforgiving iron bars. He knew he was hurting her, but at this point he was beyond compassion. He couldn't hear her or feel her trying to force him off her. His lips took possession of hers, her heat inducing a mind-numbing oblivion that threatened to absorb him, and when he finally came inside her, his desperate aggression faded and his touch turned gentle, kissing her throat and caressing her curves as a lover would, as though he knew them by heart.

As he became aware of himself again, Reaver abruptly released her, allowing himself to slide out of her and setting her feet back on the floor. Her skirts fell around her and knees trembled for a moment, but she stood straight and stubborn before him, watching him insolently through her tears, her face emotionless as he straightened his clothes. He didn't say anything, merely shooting her an unreadable glance in the semi-darkness before leaving her to the silence and stench of the brig. As she listened to his fading footsteps, she sank quietly to the floor, biting her lip as the motion sent pain shooting through her, and she became abruptly aware of the juices leaking down her thighs.

Numbly, she pressed her forehead to the bars, letting out a small sigh. She was alone, and Reaver was not going to let her go. He thought he owned her, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was in serious trouble. _I am no longer the Hero I once was_, she admitted miserably, closing her eyes as she fought with despair. Just a single lapse in judgement had reduced her to a pirate toy shivering in a cell. She should never have allowed Reaver into her town. She should have sent him packing, or killed him herself when she had the chance.

No, she couldn't give in to that type of thinking. She wasn't a ruthless killer like Reaver. _But he_'_s not as completely ruthless as he thinks_, a small voice murmured, and for a second, Sparrow remembered that heart-stopping moment when Reaver had shot Alex, only to realized he'd left the man alive. She knew better than to think the Thief had missed. Reaver hadn't killed Alex, because she had asked him not to. The only redeeming act she'd ever seen him willingly take. _I_'_m pleading for you not to kill_. She hadn't planned to say it. But it was true. She didn't want Alex dead, but more than anything, she didn't want to see Reaver's hands covered in yet more blood. _What does it matter to me if he kills_,_ aside from the lives lost_?_ It_'_s not like I can stop him from killing ever again_. _He is already lost_. _I can_'_t save him_. Frustrated, she shook the train of thought out of her head again. The Pirate had just forced himself on her, hurt her with no regard for her pain, and she was thinking of saving his soul. She felt disgusted with herself. She had to focus. She couldn't wallow in dark thoughts, or care for a Pirate who could never care anything for her.


	13. Impasse

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Author's Elucidation: Hello everyone. Sorry to disrupt the flow of the story, but I thought I would put in some of my own thought here. Kind of fill in some blanks and add some depth to what is going on. Okay, things are going to be a bit dark for Reaver for a while. Some of you may notice he has lost touch with reality a bit... more. Like considering his prisoner's escape a 'betrayal'. Even I rub my head in consternation at that one.

But there's a lot going on that isn't written, because the character can't always work it out for themselves. So I'm going to go add in my own observations that I have and go into some thought on the Pirate King in his current predicament:

Reaver isn't really seeing the 'prisoner' part of Sparrow. Remember, he's what we would think of today as being clinically insane. But then again, he's also a cut-throat pirate in possession of eternal youth AND the collective powers that come with being the Hero of Skill. And he's wealthy beyond all reason. And he's had this 'above human' status for almost all of his very long life.

That's a very easy way to lose touch with reality. And so he's an extreme Narcissist. Nothing has told him 'no' and lived to tell about it in 200 years. Having that much power and never dying or aging, especially after his self Disassociation resulting from his sacrifice of Oakvale... yeah, definitely a man who isn't playing with a full deck.

So, that being said, when I'm writing, I try to get inside the character and let him or her tell me the story from their point of view. Even I don't always know what's going to happen next. But I do hear inner workings of it. He doesn't want Sparrow to leave, and so therefore, in his mind, she doesn't really want to leave. And lets be honest, with how far gone he is, even just a softening in her attitude towards him (which there has definitely been) that could be enough to concrete that in his mind. Make it fact.

Reaver is a man without limits, and that's not healthy. In a way, Sparrow is his opposing force, constantly denying him and going against what he wants. Creating limits. A Hero-scale battle of wills. On one hand, he's unreasonably drawn to this, and lets it happen, on the other, he views this as a loss of control on his part, and he blames this on her. Sooner or later this is going to explode into something that will probably be violent (worse than what happened at the end of the last chapter). And things will either get better or worse after that.

As for him feeling betrayed, when he got it into his warped mind that Sparrow really wants to stay, he let his own guard down a bit. I don't even think he realized it, and when she finally gave into what he wanted, combined with the raw newness of the experience for him, he probably didn't even realize how vulnerable he was to her... until she ran away. And by her reaction to him, he would have deduced she felt the same way toward him. I know, it's sounds nuts, but remember, you really have to be able to stretch your mind out when dealing with Reaver. He had his own personal brand of Reason. So, when he realized she was gone, I'm sure that brief vulnerability caused him unreasonable pain. Something he's never felt. Ever. But Reaver _can't_ be vulnerable, I doubt he could begin to process it, so when the pain (aided by the help of the Shadows still in his soul) threatened to consume him, he turned it to anger and aggression and took off after her. (A very common reaction, just a lot more extreme in his case). He felt betrayed because she hurt him. He couldn't admit to the pain, but he felt betrayed none the less.

Yes, I know, insane, but that's Reaver. I didn't make the character, I just know what he is and can guess how he thinks. I just take it to a much deeper level, because I can. Anyways, please enjoy the following chapter. Its been a long time in being worked out, but that's cause I'm sorta in uncertain territory here, and it just takes time to work out what's happening. And if it's crap... well, it's crap.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Impasse

* * *

It was morning. The sea sparkled in the bright sunshine, so clear and blue it was possible to see all manner of life beneath the surface of the water. The sound of the waves mixed the with snatches birds calling to each other. Sparrow sat in the corner of her cell, surveying the scene through a small hole in the side of the ship. The sun was only a few hours above the horizon and she could hear bare feet padding towards her cell door, but did not look away from the vision outside as they approached the iron bars. The metallic shuffle of keys and a loud _click_ told her the door was unlocked. She did not look up. Finally, he cleared his throat, and Sparrow glanced up to see Reaver staring down at her. She said nothing, but he did not leave her waiting.

"Come with me," he said, his voice low and inviting.

Sparrow frowned, but stood, dirty, nude to the waist, and reeking of the brig, and with all the pride she could muster. She made no move to cover herself, staring into his eyes head on as she waited for him to lead. Reaver smiled and wrapped a blue robe around her shoulders, and Sparrow clutched it tightly as he lead her above deck.

To her great surprise, there were no crewmen about. In fact, the ship seemed completely deserted. _What is this about_? she wondered, but rather than voice her questions, she followed Reaver to his cabin in silence. There awaited the large bathtub, full of steaming water. Behind that on the bed was a large tray filled with enough food for five people. Her stomach snarled at the sight of it, but she was more curious about why Reaver was standing by the open door. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he said, "I must apologize, love, but I won't be joining you. Please, bathe, eat, and sleep, if you wish. I will be below deck checking that our cargo is secure." And with that, he was out the door, closing it behind him.

Sparrow stood silently with her mouth hanging open. What was going on here? She stood silently, and heard Reaver walk across the outer cabin, the door close behind him, and his footsteps disappear entirely. After waiting several minutes to see if he would come back, she stripped off the cloak and the filthy skirt and climbed into the steaming bath.

As she was scrubbing all manner of filth and fluids from her skin, it hit her. She was quite alone. If Reaver could be believed, they were alone on this ship, and he had deliberately left her a clear path to the harbor. She could easily walk off the ship and he would never hear her down in the hold. Then she snorted. Reaver must think she was really stupid to fall for that. _No_, it occurred to her, _he knows I_'_m not that stupid_._ He_'_s just proving that even with no one to guard me_,_ I_'_m_ _not going anywhere_. He was rubbing it in that he had won his little game.

Angrily, she scrubbed at her skin, until every inch of it was glowing pink. _What does this mean for me_? Her eyes absentmindedly glanced around the room, taking in the food, the clothes, the soft bed. He had everything taken care of for her. _As usual_. In his eyes, she was his. His pet. All she was missing was a collar and a tag. _So_,_ this is what the inside of a gilded cage looks like_. She finished scrubbing her hair and quickly got out of the water, walking in her bare skin around the cabin to dry in the sea air. As she slowly ate, trying to ponder some option she hadn't thought of. Running away had not worked. In fact, it had backfired. Reaver was too mindful of her to let her out of his sight long enough for her to make her escape, and when he found her gone, he would chase her down. Diplomacy hadn't worked thus far. Reaver saw her as a possession, and guarded her like a spoiled child, keeping her to himself.

It was several hours before Reaver returned, and he was smiling almost blithely when he saw her, sitting on the very edge of the bed, fully dressed and waiting for him patiently.

"I see you've eaten well," he said brightly. Sparrow only glowered at him. "Oh, pet, don't be angry. I only want to make you comfortable and happy."

Sparrow felt her temper fray, and she pierced Reaver with a disbelieving stare.

"Comfortable and happy?" she repeated, as though unable to believe he had dared utter the words. "Reaver, I will never be happy as your prisoner. I am not your pet, or your property. I am Sparrow; I do _not_ belong to you."

Reaver's smiled faltered. Then he sighed. "I had hoped you would have gotten past all that unpleasantness from last night."

"Got – gotten past it?" she said incredulously, now jumping to her feet. "You _abducted_ me, Reaver! You _– _you_ forced_ yourself on me! You _hurt_ me! You are holding me here against me will, and acting all the while as though this is some kind of game! In case I have not yet made it plain enough, the only thing that will make me _happy_ is getting away from you! The only place I am going to be _comfortable_ is back in my own town, in my own manor!"

Reaver stared at her, mute and expressionless, and Sparrow glowered at him, breathing hard, almost begging him to understand. When he said nothing, however, she merely looked at the floor and sighed.

"Unless you intend to force yourself on me again, you may as well take me back to the brig," she muttered. "Nothing but chains will hold me here if I find the opportunity to escape again."

There was ringing silence, then, "I will come after you, Sparrow. Though I know not why, I will always come for you." Then there was the sound of footsteps approaching her, and Sparrow squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly worried she'd said too much. It wasn't much longer before she felt his hands on her, and immediately her body began to tremble.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, smoothing his palms over the curve of her shoulders, then slipping then down under her scanty vest to cup her breasts. "I am not going to force you. I am going to love you."

"I don't want your _love_," Sparrow bit out, but to her despair, her nipples tightened as his thumbs stroked them.

"Your body was made to be loved," he said softly.

Sparrow tried to remain passive as he peeled off her clothes, and bit her lips hard to avoid making any sound as he took her nipple into his mouth and suckled sweetly, then lifted her in his arms and laid her back on his bed where his hands began their journey over every inch of her body. He ignored her attempts to hold him off, kissing his way down her body, and Sparrow held back her moans of please, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on her. Despite this, her hips rose up off the bed and a strangled gasp escaped her when he touched her with his lips and tongue, and she was immediately overcome with shame.

By Avo, why couldn't she remain passive to him? Perhaps if her body wasn't so responsive, if she wasn't so inexperienced, she'd be able to hold back the litany of moans and whimpers each time he suckled at her nipples, or stroked her folds with his tongue. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to will him away from her, tried to erect some barrier between them, but that didn't stop him from spreading her thighs, or stop her from feeling his shaft as he slowly, gently slid it inside her wet passage. Desperately, she prayed that he would be quick, but as though just to spite her, he moved at a deliberate slow pace, making her feel every inch of him as he filled her over and over again. Her blood was burning and she held him so tightly inside her it brought her to the point of pain. She wanted nothing from him, yet what he was giving her wasn't nearly enough, and she was aware of it each time her hips tried to meet his, enticing him to go faster. Letting her breath out on a sob, she tried to cover her face with her hands, but the Pirate did not even allow her that. He gently encircled her wrists and pulled them above her head, then leaned down and began to kiss her, gently, all over her face and lips, tiny, tender kisses that should have made her feel cherished, but instead only broke her heart.

"Reaver..." she whispered. "Please stop. Just let me go."

"Never, Sparrow," he breathed huskily. "We will have this for eternity, you and I. You are hot for me, and I intend to savor and enjoy every moment with you."

And so it went on for what felt like hours. Sometimes he saw fit to change their position; he lifted her legs over his shoulders and pounded into her even more deeply, until she could feel him against the opening of her womb; he placed her on her knees and took her from behind, his hands grasping and squeezing her bottom as he took her; but, most humiliating of all, he placed her a top him and bade her to ride him. At first, she refused to move, but when he slowly began to thrust up into her, her body took on a life of it's own and thrust down onto him, seeking the hot friction as she set a frantic pace. After he'd so mercilessly held back on her, her body was in a frenzy, and though her heart cried out in misery, her body rejoiced as the ground down on him, taking him as deep inside her as she possibly could. When they finally reached their peak, he filled her with his essence, then took her trembling form in his arms and held her as they sank back to their bodies.

"I hate you," she whimpered pathetically, barely able to think coherently.

The Pirate's only response was to kiss her again, and when they had both dressed once more, Reaver stepped over to his wardrobe and withdrew a warm cloak from it and wrapped it around her.

"You'll need this," he said softly, and without another word, he led her out of the cabin and down to the same filthy cell he had locked her in the night before. She did not look at him as he fastened the shackles about her wrists, and he said nothing to her as he locked the cell door behind her and walked away.

* * *

They had him cornered. The voyage across the sea had been long, but Daniels' hunch had been right. Reaver's ship was anchored in the port of Sadrhi and had yet to move for the past day and a half. They had followed it just as it was anchoring at the dock late at night, and had even watched Reaver leave the ship, without Sparrow. A scout was posted on the sea cliffs above the harbor where he kept an eye on the ship for Reaver's return, but by late the next evening there was nothing. They had secreted _The Rose_ into a nearby cove where Daniels was planning sneak himself aboard Reaver's ship to look for Sparrow.

Sedgewick glanced over at the younger man. He had a hard smile about his scraggly face as he prepared himself, pulling on dark clothing and arming himself to the teeth, and the old warrior wondered if he had any idea what he was getting himself into. Reaver was more than just another pirate. He was a living legend. Some say he never aged and would never die. But even this was nothing compared to the man's skill. He could take a ship by firing a single shot from across the open sea, no matter the distance or weather.

Infiltrating his ship in the dead of night was insanity, and the fact that Reaver was not currently on board it was only a small comfort.

"Our best chance of rescuing the Mayor is to open up diplomatic negotiations," the old warrior insisted once more, trying to talk sense into the sailor. "It is what the Mayor would do."

"And yeh think our diplomatic Mayor 'as not tried that 'erself by now?" Daniels replied. "No, this is a man who 'as no understanding of civility or decency. He willna negotiate."

"Then what? You can't win against him in a fight. And we both know you're likely to be caught. Reaver isn't about to leave his ship without protection, and you're not exactly a trained assassin, not that it would help you much if you were."

Daniels smiled. "I'm not goin' te fight 'im. I'll get Sparrow in and out before 'e even knows we are here. By the time they know she's gone, we'll be 'alfway back te Bloodstone."

"And if you are caught?"

Daniels' smile vanished at once. "I won' be."

"But say you are?"

"Then may the Light and the Lady's Avo help me," said Daniels. "'E will probably kill me."

"Then why go through with this folly?" asked Sedgewick calmly.

"Dammit, I 'ave te do _something_!" Daniels snapped. "And if yeh were truly loyal to 'er, yeh'd do the same."

Sedgewick drew up his full height, glaring down at the Commander. "Never doubt my loyalty. I am pledged to her. But I also know when I am given orders."

"She didn' know what she was gettin' into," Daniels insisted.

"She knows all too well," the warrior said. "She's worked with the man before."

Daniels remained resolved. "I, too, am loyal. Loyal enough te face down the Pirate King if I 'ave te."

Sedgewick nodded and said, "Do what you must. If you are not back by dawn –"

"I know yeh'll be there te back me up," Daniels said with his first true smile.

Sedgewick glanced down at him.

"Maybe."

And he smirked, and Daniels grinned at him. He then left the sailor to his duty.

* * *

Reaver stretched out on his bed in the palace, several lovely men and women languishing around him, all falling asleep after a long night of indulgence, and Reaver let out a sigh, feeling pleased with himself and dissatisfied at the same time. He was pleased to prove he could still be with any man or woman, even if he did have to put a bit of effort into it, but even as the evening had gone on he had found himself thinking of Sparrow.

For every hand that touched him, he thought of her, every lips that kissed him reminded him of her, and every body he lavished his attention on somehow didn't compare to hers. He couldn't fully sleep, feeling merely as though he were floating in a sea of shadows. Images of Sparrow floated through his mind, so pleasing that he dozed comfortably to the echoes of her voice. She whispered his name intimately and smiled at him, and he smiled back, sinking deeper, but the deeper he dozed, the more her voice changed. The whisper began to waver, and her eyes tightened, until finally she wouldn't look at him. He reached out to lift her face back to his, but he couldn't get her within his grasp. Her eyes closed and her voice held a hint of fear. His heart jumped in his chest, and he lunged to take hold of her, but in his arms she felt cold and tense. Too cold. He could feel her pushing him away, and the Shadows wrapped around her, pulling at her. He tried to hold her tighter. He wouldn't let them have her.

"Sparrow, don't give in," he hissed, "stay with me."

"I despise you. I will never want to stay with you," her voice said low, becoming a deep echo in his mind. He couldn't accept this.

"You don't. And you will," he said. "Trust me."

"Trust the one who hurt me?" she asked, devoid of emotion. "I'll do anything to leave you."

Reaver suddenly lunged up from his sleep, looking around in the darkness, but he was still in his room, and Sparrow was still on his ship. He held his head in his hands, staring blankly into the night outside his room.

He hadn't touched her again, deliberately leaving her aboard the _Reaver_ to avoid the temptation. That night he'd found her with Alex, running away from him, with one of his own crew, a love from her past... it had overcome him. He had given into the darkness, and now she was spending every moment hating him, and he, somehow, had been unable to face her after their last coupling. His own rage had twisted him, and an even uglier feeling ate away at him, until only the darkness made sense, and when he'd kissed her, meaning to simply dominate her, everything had gotten out of hand. And despite his gentleness the last time he'd touched her, he knew it could happen again. If he wanted her bad enough, especially now that he'd had her before... he couldn't trust himself. He still needed her to want him.

But she would never want him. She had said as much herself, and he had heard her. She had told him in no uncertain terms that she would leave him at the first opportunity. He didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't let her go. Sparrow _did_ want him, she _needed_ him, she just didn't know it, he was certain of it. And yet she denied it, vehemently at that. He needed to show her. He needed her to know, so that when they parted ways again, she would think of him and mourn his absence.

Abruptly he stood, pacing in the nude up and down the length of the room, barely making even a whisper of a sound, but just as abruptly plopped himself back into bed, deliberately thrusting images of Sparrow from his mind. He couldn't let her keep doing this to him. She kept twisting him up inside until he barely knew himself. He couldn't let her control him. Grabbing the concubine nearest him, he began to pleasure her before she could even waken, but even as he found release in her body, Sparrow face burned in his mind...

* * *

Daniels was right pleased with himself as he boarded Reaver's ship undetected. He climbed the side, slithering through the dark until he hoisted himself over the ledge of the main deck, quickly slipping into the captain's cabin. When he did not find Sparrow, he could only assume she was in the brig, and cursed Reaver repeatedly in his mind as he made his way there, miraculously avoiding detection. As he searched the cells, he thought for one horrible moment that she wasn't there, but then he saw her, curled up in the darkness against the far wall, her face shadowed. Daniels' heart clenched even as the urge to kill the Pirate King with his bare hands warred with his good judgement.

"Sparrow," he whispered hoarsely, his heart leaping as she jumped up and leaned closer, trying to make him out in the darkness. "It's me, Daniels."

Sparrow gasped, feeling for a second as though a jolt had gone through her.

"Mister Daniels? Jack, is it really you?"

Daniels smiled in spite of the situation. "I see yeh're finally usin' me given name. I've come te get yeh out of here."

Sparrow, who's head was spinning, blurted, "You can't. He's already caught me once trying to leave. I'm certain he'll kill you if he catches you here."

Daniels frowned. "When did yeh try to escape?"

"Two nights ago," Sparrow said with a sigh. "He was onto me before I even got far. I thought I was so close."

"Two nights ago?" Daniels repeated incredulously. "That's roughly when we caught up with yeh. We thought the ship was just arrivin'. If only we had been a little sooner."

Sparrow gave him a small smile. "Don't blame yourself. It's my fault. I saw the chance to run and took it, endangering another life in the process. I should have been more cautious, taken another route, gone by land, done _something_. I'm lucky he listened to me and left Alex alive."

Daniels' frown deepened but got back to the matter at hand. "Well, I'll succeed where this Alex failed, I promise. I'll make sure yeh're freed from this disgusting place."

"But you can't get me out," she said, "I forbid it. I can't have you endangering your life for me. You were supposed to stay and protect Bloodstone, remember?"

Daniels did not look remotely abashed. "Yes, but it looks like yeh need me help anyway. I'm bound te serve and protect yeh, Capt'n. I'll get yeh out of here. Just wait."

Sparrow opened her mouth to order him to go back, but Daniels was gone. She snapped her mouth shut, a sudden prickling shooting up her spine as her heart went into overdrive. Something had come back to life in her when she'd heard Daniels voice. For a whole night and day she'd done nothing but wallow miserably, despondent in her captivity, but as the night drew on and she saw nothing of him, she had sunk deeper and deeper into despair. But now she felt awake and alert for the first time since that horrible incident, and she knew one thing for certain: she couldn't let anything happen to Daniels. Not for her.

She called after Daniels in a loud whisper, but he was truly gone. She frantically struggled with her shackles, trying to pull her hands free, but they wouldn't give. Panicking, and with adrenaline coursing through her blood, she pulled harder, squeezing her thumb down deeper into her palm, until it felt like it was about to pop free of her hand. She gasped and held her breath, gritting her teeth as she gave another pull and her hand finally slipped through. Catching her breath, she rubbed her wrist and thumb, bracing herself for the next one.

A minute later she was on her feet, rubbing her wrists. Now if only she could get out the cell. She examined the lock, and then the hinges, almost laughing hysterically aloud when she realized she could lift the door out of them. Using all her strength, she grasped the iron bars and quietly eased the door up, wincing at every creak. Just a little further... just a little more...

* * *

Daniels slithered along in the darkness, almost holding his breath as he ransacked the Captain's quarters for the key to the cell. Sparrow was counting on him. Well, perhaps she wasn't, as she had ordered him to abandon the mission and leave her behind, but he was counting on himself to save her. From the sound of it, he was her only hope... even if he just wanted to think so...

Heart pounding and filled with visions of being the hero to Sparrow, he almost voiced his glee when he found the key. Slipping the large, tarnished key into his breast-pocket, he quickly left the cabin. Concentrating hard, he quietly shut the door behind him, but as he turned, his heart stopped in his chest. The long barrel of a crude rifle was staring him down, and a filthy, bare-chested pirate was giving him a toothless smile down the sight.

* * *

Sparrow heard a commotion as she hovered in the sails above the deck, cloaked in darkness and trying to spot Mister Daniels. He seemed to have disappeared, and briefly she wondered if he had followed her order and left her behind. If he had, perhaps she would follow and escape with him after all, but she wasn't leaving this ship until she knew she would not be leaving Mister Daniels to face Reaver alone.

From below she heard voices calling to one another and the sound of a scuffle. Repositioning herself, Sparrow glanced down and felt her heart stop. Mister Daniels, handcuffed and under the gunpoint of one of Reaver's crew, was being ushered out onto the quarterdeck.

"Nice and quiet like," the pirate grunted. "'Is nibs will be on board any minute now to deal with ye, so ye just kneel down right there and don' force me te splatter yer brains across this deck. Make a mess fer the cabin boy, that would."

Sparrow winced at his sharp laugh, and leaning carefully out away from the rigging, Sparrow saw Reaver already coming up the gangplank.

"Ooh, you're that charming fellow from Bloodstone," said Reaver almost cheerfully. "What could you possibly be doing here? Carrying out some botched rescue mission, I daresay?"

Mister Daniels glared up at Reaver.

"Not botched. Yer lackey may not 'ave told yeh, but me lady Sparrow's not in 'er cell. She's already escaped."

"Oh, I somehow doubt that," said Reaver, now pleasantly looking around. When he spoke again, his voice was even louder, so it carried easily to where Sparrow was hiding. "Your lovely Mayor is too _noble_ to leave a man behind, even if it is a man she has not a care for."

Daniels swore and lunged at Reaver, but the Pirate King drew his gun so fast that Daniels stopped short, staring down the barrel. "Now, now, lets not do anything rash. I'm not ready to kill you just yet. Sparrow should be coming down to sacrifice herself for you any minute now. I doubt she'll be half as forthcoming if you're nothing but a corpse."

"She won'!" Daniels said, now speaking as loudly as Reaver. "She'll be gone by now."

"Come out, now, Sparrow," Reaver called. "If you want to play games, you should know that I'm holding all the cards," he added, smiling down at Daniels. "I have no need to kill this strapping sailor, but if you do not come out of hiding, why, I'll have no use for him at all."

"Sparrow, don'!" Daniels called. "Get out of here!"

Reaver kicked him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Sparrow stayed where she was, her heart pounding. Reaver was absolutely right, she wouldn't leave Daniels behind. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she called out, "Will you release him?" then quickly climbed higher away from her hiding spot. Below her, on the deck below, she heard Reaver's footsteps as he moved closer to the place her voice had come from. She kept moving, remaining completely silent.

"I said I wouldn't kill him, lovely Sparrow," Reaver called out, the satisfaction in his voice tangible. "Come out and lets discuss the matter."

Sparrow kept moving among the rigging, but just as she swung on a rope to get from one mast to the other, she heard a gunshot fired, and the rope in her hand snapped. She fell through nothingness, flailing in the air, trying to grab onto something, but nothing was in her reach, and she braced herself for a collision with the hard deck. But it never came. Instead she felt Reaver's arms snatch her out of the air at the last moment, and soon she was struggling out of his grip, landing nimbly on her feet.

"Sparrow, it's pointless to try and hide from me, you should know this," he said patronizingly.

Sparrow, not even acknowledging his word with a glare, turned instead to Daniels, who was still catching his breath, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Why didn' yeh get out of here?" he gasped angrily.

"Because she knows she cannot escape me, fool," Reaver said, with an air of one expressing the obvious.

Sparrow ignored them both and ran to Daniels side and pulling him to his feet. Looking at Reaver with ill-concealed contempt, she said, "Let him go. He didn't let me out. He's done nothing."

"Let him go?" Reaver said, sounding curiously amused. "And what are you willing to trade for his freedom, lovely Sparrow."

"Nothing you aren't willing to take from me," she said coolly.

Reaver's smile dissolved, but then he grinned at her again, though this time it looked more like he was baring his teeth at her. "Such accusations, Sparrow, but really, I remember you giving yourself to me willingly."

Sparrow felt Daniels tense next to her, but she had no time to spare his feelings now.

"Then I have nothing to give you, and you have no reason to keep him here. One sailor is not a threat to you."

"An army of sailors is not a threat to me, but he seems to have brought that with him, too."

This did not phase Sparrow; she was not surprised that the crew had accompanied Daniels. "What do you want?" she asked bluntly.

Now Reaver did smile at her. "I want you, Sparrow, you know that."

"And so you're free to have me as you please," she spat. "You've already proven that."

"But if you come to me willingly, I'll let your crew and your precious Commander go free."

Sparrow glared at him. "And if I refuse? Are you going to slaughter them all like animals?"

Reaver grinned, thinking to himself as though the idea had merit. Then he said, "No, but your strapping Mister Daniels here will remain my prisoner. Perhaps over time I will think of new ways to convince you."

"Take me as yer prisoner and let Sparrow leave," Mister Daniels said, and Sparrow stared up at him surprised. Before she could express what a horrible idea she thought that was, he looked at her and said, "There's no reason fer yeh te remain if I can set yeh free."

Sparrow felt a rush of affection and gratitude, but Reaver shot this idea down before she could speak. "Admirable sentiments, but I won't be letting Sparrow leave," he promised them. "What say you, Sparrow?"

Sparrow looked up at Daniels. She could get him out of this horrible mess, but his expression plainly told her that he would not stop until he had freed her from the Pirate King. A part of her felt gratitude at his bravery and loyalty, but a stronger part wanted to yell at him, to curse at him for endangering himself and the crew and for making this problem even more complicated than it was. But she just _couldn_'_t_ surrender herself to Reaver. Not willingly. It would kill her. She wasn't going to give in to this bastard of a pirate.

As though reading his Captain's mind, Daniels smiled grimly and said, "It looks like yeh've got two fer the brig now, Pirate King."

Reaver did not look pleased, but he wordlessly jerked his head, and his crewman grabbed both Daniels and Sparrow by their arms, and dragged them below deck. Sparrow glowered at Reaver until he disappeared from sight, and promised herself he was not going to have the last word in this war.


	14. Pulling Rank

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own anything that is the original property of Fable 3.

Author's Missive: Thank you very much to my reviewers. I was very pleased with the description of my story as a psychological thriller, and am even more pleased that everyone is enjoying it as much as I am. Nothing too major happens here, just tying up the ends of some things and moving other things ahead. New direction for the plot coming up. I'm getting some very insane ideas for this one, but it could be so much fun! *cackles* I mean, just the environmental conflict I can create with this next phase of the story. Anyhoo, here's the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Pulling Rank

* * *

Several full days and nights had passed and barely a word was exchanged between Captain and Commander. The first hour had gone by with very few questions. Daniels told her, in crisp tones, that _The Rose_ was hidden and watching Reaver's ship, and even now, Sedgewick would be cooking up a plan to break them out. Sparrow sincerely hoped he was wrong, and the rest of the hour went quietly, but it a was silence thicker than cold custard, and Sparrow could feel the weight of judgement pressing down on her. Daniels had not spared her a glance or a word, merely staring at the filthy floor as though he were bidden to memorize it. Sparrow did not look at him either, sitting alone on the floor of her cell, several locked doors away from his, and numbly pondering the complexity of her predicament.

Since her first ill-fated attempt at escape, she had been cast into despair, then riled into defiance for the sake of her Commander's foolish rescue attempt, and now cast down again, he with her, back into this stagnant captivity, all in a few scant days. At first, she did not want to move, did not want Daniels to speak, did not want to hear the hurt in his tone or see the growing resentment in his eyes. His silence pressed down on her, but she did not break it. A small part felt as though she deserved this, that perhaps if she endured judgement and punishment for her disgraces, she could redeem herself, and find her freedom.

But as another hour passed, this one broken by a brilliant gray sunlight slanting through the sides of the ship, that thought seemed ridiculous. She was a Hero, she had sacrificed everything in her youth for the "greater good", and even more of herself since then for the "people", and if she'd been disgraced by falling into Reaver's trap, then perhaps she was better off beholden to this ship, sailing the seas and having not a care for anything but her own interests.

Another hour. The light became brighter, eventually slanting down to the floor and trailing over the grimy wood, until Sparrow was watching it play over her pale toes. She wiggled them in the warmth, and as her heart-beat slowed, the defiance subsided. She wasn't Reaver. She could never care only for herself. She took care of Bloodstone because it was her nature to lead, and they had eventually come to trust and rely on her. It was her home.

Sparrow leaned her head back against the iron cage, looking out through the small hole in the wood, watching the silvery sunlight play over the crystal clear ocean. She was breathless from the beauty of it, but her heart missed her home, her manor, her people, her daily patrol and the endless tasks. The frivolity of all this had been more fun than she'd had in years, but it didn't fill her soul. She felt so empty in his life. It consumed her, just as it had consumed Reaver, and eventually it would leave her as the same empty, self-absorbed shell.

Another hour. She looked outside until the brightness hurt her eyes, and still she kept looking. Nothing disturbed her. The sound of the sea and ships reminded her of home, and her mind wandered aimlessly, avoiding Mister Daniels, avoiding Reaver, avoiding the bald fact that this was her fault and her fault alone. If she allowed herself to avoid it all entirely, she could pretend those waves sounded like the waves in Bloodstone harbor, and the ships were merchant ships, coming to trade in her town and bringing their exotic goods and wealth with them. She'd be patrolling the harbor while several of them unloaded, greeting the captain of each ship, offering them accommodations and admiring their wears. Maybe she'd buy something she fancied, and add it to her manor or gift it to the town.

A sharp rap made Sparrow's eyes snap open, and her head turned up to see one of Reaver's filthy crewmen bringing her a meal. He slipped it haphazardly through the bars. It wasn't much. A chunk of bread, a lump of cheese, and a flask of water, held in a square of cloth. Then he started to walk away, and Sparrow saw with alarm that he had only brought her food.

"Wait a minute," she said. The pirate stopped and leered at her, his tangled, matted beard and weed-like eyebrows doing nothing to hide his scowl. "What about my Commander?" she said sharply.

The pirate shrugged. "My orders were only to bring you rations. 'Is nibs said nothing bout 'im."

Sparrow frowned. "Well surely when he said 'feed the prisoners' he meant both of us."

"'E said nothing of the sort," growled the pirate, "and if you don't like it take it up with the Cap'n."

And then he trundled up the stairs. Sparrow listened to his heavy footfalls disappear, then opened the cloth holding the bread and cheese. There was barely enough there for one, but determinedly she tore both chunks in two, and tied the cloth around Daniels' share, slipping it back through the bars.

"Daniels," she called when he did not look up or acknowledge her efforts. He looked at her, as indifferently as though he saw through her, but then he spoke.

"Yeh keep it," he said gruffly. Sparrow scowled.

"Are you still apart of my crew?" she said. "If so then you have your orders. You can't survive without food." And she tossed the bundle. It landed with a soft _flump_ right outside his cell door.

Daniels hesitated, then reached out and took it.

They ate in silence. When Sparrow had consumed half the water she insisted he take that too, and then she leaned back against the bars and looked back into the bright outside, trying to ignore the growling in her stomach. She felt somehow hungrier than before she'd eaten, but she wouldn't let it get to her. She had endured hunger before. There wasn't always food to be found during the days of her adventures, and sometimes one had to make do. She would keep making do.

* * *

Reaver did not come to the brig to confront Sparrow again that day, or for the next several days, and sometimes, during weak, unguarded moments, she wondered where he was, and what he was doing. She never heard his voice carry down from the upper deck, not that she was listening, yet the portions of food she was given got smaller, as though he knew she was sharing them. She kept a resolute silence, flares of despair and defiance warring inside her, usually followed by long periods of despondence or renewed resolution, each phase rising and dying inside her as her thoughts chased each other around in the silence. How long did he intent to keep them here? How long would he avoid confronting her? How long could she stand the stagnation and the silence? Her body was starting to scream for action, and yet, she would take none. She could force her way out of captivity again, she knew that, and Reaver knew that. Maybe he expected it of her. Maybe he just wanted to see how long she could hold out before she cracked. But it was not as though she could just run, and he knew it. Now she had Mister Daniels to be responsible for, no matter that he did not look at her or speak to her.

On the fifth day she'd had enough. She was tired of the games, and she had had enough of feeling sorry for herself. Without preamble, as though she'd been planning it all along and merely waiting for the exact right moment, she stood from the floor and lifted her cell door from its hinges, not even bothering to be silent about it, and let herself out. She could feel Daniels watching her, and for the first time he spoke.

"Goin' te cut a deal with 'im?" he asked, his tone oddly mild.

Sparrow frowned at him as she replaced the door, then stood with her feet apart, staring at Daniels in consternation before she said, "I require some fresh air."

"If ye can break open the door, we can escape," Daniels pointed out abruptly, sounding almost angry. "And we've just been sittin' 'ere."

Sparrow shook her head. "We can't do something as predictable as that. He'll chase us down, and he'll kill you just to punish me, or even maim you, and then we could be in an even worse predicament than we are now."

"Then what are we goin' te do?" Daniels asked. "Just wait until 'e feel's like killin' us or lettin' us leave?"

Sparrow didn't know what to do right now, but admitting that to her already agitated Commander wasn't going to help the matter. "No, we're going to wait for the right opportunity," she said, not even knowing if that would ever come.

Daniels said nothing for a moment. Then he looked down at the floor again. Sparrow was sure he wasn't going to say anything else, but as her foot touched the first step, she heard him distinctly say, "Was 'e tellin' the truth?"

Sparrow hesitated, then turned around. He was looking at her again, almost as though daring her to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

"Yes," she said simply.

Even from here, she could see him stiffen. His eyes hardened, and the silence was pressing upon her once again, and Sparrow frowned at him. "Think what you like, Mister Daniels, I am a grown woman free to make my own choices... and mistakes."

"Then perhaps yeh should just give 'im what 'e wants," Daniels suddenly said, and Sparrow looked at him, confused by his tone. "'E's made 'is terms clear," he elaborated, not avoiding looking at her, but looking into her with his hard eyes. "Just give 'im what 'e want, if yeh're _willin_'."

Without a word, she fled up the stairs, sick with shame and anger, and mentally beating it down. Who was he to talk to her like that anyway? _He wasn_'_t there at the time_, she told herself stubbornly. _He has no idea what it was like_.

Out on deck, the crew left behind to keep the ship secure stopped to watch her. It did not bother her. She couldn't bring herself to begin to worry about them, or Reaver, and so she walked down the gangplank as though she owned it and, when no one stopped her, she wandered down to the dock, where the first thing she found was a market and an inn. It was nothing like the inns back in Albion. This place almost appeared to be one with the surrounding market, and as she wandered, she found her feet taking what felt like a familiar, yet half-forgotten path, and before she knew what she was planning she found herself in front of a place that was obviously the bar. A harried barman stood behind it, his white turban a little askew, and customers crowded his counters, speaking in their strange tongue and handing over peculiar silver coins instead of the gold she was accustomed to. But it was still the same. Money and commerce were the same no matter where you were, and so when she pulled on a spare apron and began to clean glasses behind the bar, the dusky-skinned barman merely raised an eyebrow at her, taking in her strange appearance, then turned back to his customers, now speaking even faster.

Sparrow found herself assisting him in any way she could, and when he realized she knew how to work the tap as well as clean and assist, he moved her to the bar where the task of serving the customers was no more difficult than serving drinks in a pub back home. They pointed her to what they wanted, she fetched the drinks, and they paid her. She did this for hours, and it seemed for a while she could even forget her problems. This was just normal work, and when she took off her apron after several busy, wearing hours, the barman paid her in several silver coins, offering her a smile and, from what his tone implied, a thank you.

Sparrow, feeling lighter than she had in weeks, wandered in and around the market, using her money to buy decent food and clothes, and around dusk she wandered back toward the ship, barely noticing anyone around her. Therefore she received quite a shock when she heard a familiar voice from a man in a hooded robe who had just sidled up beside her in the crowd.

"Fancy seeing you here, stranger."

"Sedgewick!" she hissed in shock, and then immediately composed herself as though nothing had happened and continued to walk. He stayed close by her and they passed Reaver's ship, continuing deeper into the market until Sparrow found a secluded alleyway, where the man lowered his hood and she saw her Sheriff smiling down at her.

"Gresham Sedgewick, you sly old fox," Sparrow said, inordinately pleased to see him, "I should have guessed you'd be out here."

"I've been waiting for you to appear," he said proudly. "I figured Jack's plan mighta gone the way of the Shadow Temple, and so I've hid the ship farther away and have waited here for you."

Sparrow felt herself smiling even wider at his foresight, and said, "I am pleased to see you, Gresham, but you can't help us. The Pirate King will not let me go. He will chase us down, and I cannot put the crew in danger like that."

"Daniels is still alive then," Gresham said, his relief evident. "I had worried, when neither of you came back."

"He's alive," Sparrow said, "and we're both prisoners. Reaver hasn't stopped me from wandering about, but he'll come after me if I run again."

"But there must be something –" Gresham started, but Sparrow cut him off.

"Please, just take the men home," Sparrow said, forgetting about rank and orders in the moment. "I'll get us out of this. Maybe I'll just take Daniels' suggestion and give the Pirate what he wants."

Gresham scowled. "And what is that, exactly?"

"Forget it," Sparrow said, "I didn't mean it, it's nothing I will give."

Gresham looked as though he wanted to press it, but instead he inquired with a softer tone, "Are you sure you don't want us to keep close to you? You might need us when the time does come."

"I'm sure," Sparrow said firmly. "The men must miss their families, and it's not right putting the lot of you in senseless danger. I'm certain he won't kill us. I'm sure the opportunity will come when I can either bargain our release or Reaver will get bored of his little game and let us go."

Gresham did not look happy, but as he left and Sparrow walked back to the ship, she felt sure he would leave once and for all, and she tried not to let herself feel alone for it. She had to handle this alone, regardless of Daniels presence.

Back on the ship, she gave the food to Daniels, but his silence forced her back above deck, where she spent a silent hour watching the sun sink closer to the horizon.

It had been the most enjoyable day she had known in this strange land, and she'd even found herself smiling from time to time. And yet she hadn't glimpsed the Pirate in all those long hours. He was probably enjoying another party up at the palace, she thought scathingly, and wasn't likely sparing her a thought. The thought momentarily infuriated her, but she fought the feeling down. She hadn't a thought to spare for him either.

* * *

A few more days passed with Sparrow leaving the ship to wander the market around the harbor as she pleased, and returning each night to the small cell, though she was by no means forced to. She worked for the barman several more times, and had even found a few other odd jobs, until she had a considerable store of silver coins. She had acquired a new weapon the salesman had called a "scimitar", and even some more clothes that blended her easily with the populace. Only her pale coloring made her stand out, but most people she met were friendly, even though she could not understand their tongue. She had learned a few words, but the language was difficult and she was nowhere near conversant. After spending a few evenings in the pub as a customer, she had learned a new game involving moving brightly colored gems around twelve pits gouged into a wooden board. The old woman teaching her had called it "maah-kalah", and her group of friends had laughed and talked fast in their strange tongue when Sparrow won her first round.

"It sounds like the woman you just defeated was a reigning champion," said a drawling voice behind her, and Sparrow stiffened, then turned around, facing Reaver, eye-to-eye, as though she were staring down a dragon. Reaver was smiling at her in his typically arrogant way, and after he gave her a long look up and down, he added, "I should have known you would have preferred mingling with the little people. I offer you the best this culture has to offer, and you'd rather be in this dirty pub playing old maid's games."

Sparrow could help but smile at his exasperation, and gave him a little shrug. "I like these so-called 'little people'. They work hard and love their families, they help their friends and look out for each other."

Reaver's smile was devilish. "And you think any one of them wouldn't give all that up to be living up in the palace and never have to lift another finger for the rest of their lives?"

Sparrow shrugged again. "I highly doubt it matters."

"Oh, but it matters a great deal," Reaver said, taking a seat beside her as the old women started another game amongst themselves. "These values you praise and this life you idolize is completely reliant on the fact that they have no choice in their fate. A lot of people never move beyond the station they're born into, and while some take the supposed 'high road' and try to make the best of it, others take advantage of the situation, and those are often the ones who are able to move up in life, who reach for and take whatever they want."

"Is that how you think of what you did?" Sparrow asked loftily. "You took advantage of your 'situation'?"

"Of course I did," Reaver said, unabashedly. "It would be an insult to everyone involved to see it any other way."

"How do you figure that?" Sparrow sniped, now taking a swig of her drink in agitation.

Reaver grinned knowingly at her. "Any rational person takes every opportunity and works it to their best interests. It's human nature."

"So that's how you live with the memory of it?" Sparrow said, almost spitting the word at him like venom: "Rationalization?"

"I am not like you, Sparrow," Reaver replied pleasantly. "I do not carry my past around with me like a cross or a trophy. I left it where it died and I moved on to the future I had sacrificed everything for."

Sparrow took another drink and then let out a derisive laugh. "You're wrong about that, Reaver. You haven't moved on from anything. It comes in the night to haunt you, and you'll never be free of it."

For the first time, the smile slid from Reaver's face, and for a moment, his face seemed almost inhuman, and Sparrow flinched away without realizing what she'd done. When she looked back, however, Reaver was looking at her with hard eyes, but completely human. "You know not of what you speak."

Sparrow paused for a moment, weighing her next words, and then, "I heard you, Reaver. Don't try lying to me. I've heard what haunts your dreams from your own lips, and – if it can even be believed – I felt sorry for you. Just for a moment."

Sparrow looked down after she said this, now focusing so hard on the rim of her glass she couldn't see anything beyond it. Then she heard Reaver rise from his seat and walk away. Sparrow let out her breath in a rush, then, with only a moment of hesitation, drained her glass and went after him.

She found Reaver just outside, standing stock still on the dock a mere twenty feet away. She wondered what he could be thinking, but soon realized he was watching a ship sailing into the harbor. She went and stood beside him, watching him out of the corner of her eye, and felt her stomach fall a few notches at the emptiness in his expression, then steeled herself against these soft feelings. She had nothing to feel bad about, she told herself, and the Pirate King was undeserving of her pity.

"We are leaving Sadrhi," he said suddenly. Sparrow froze, her train of though crashing to an abrupt halt.

When she could speak, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"A land to the north of here. Beyond the village of Asaka Kagoyo is a jungle, and I have recently come to be in possession of a certain map that leads into the very heart of that jungle. Something about a lost city and dead culture, I didn't catch all the details," he said dismissively, "but there was an interesting tidbit about a treasure."

Sparrow almost rolled her eyes. "Treasure, eh?"

"A treasure fit for a King," Reaver said. Then, in his most persuasive tone, "We could split the treasure even, sixty-forty."

Sparrow raised her eyebrows at him. "You expect me to come with you treasure hunting?"

"Well, I've noticed you've been a bit restless these past several days –"

"How would you know that? You've been up at the palace," Sparrow pointed out.

"Oh, there is always word of mouth," Reaver said slyly. "But when I came in possession of this map, the first person I thought of was you. But if you're not interested..."

Sparrow snorted. "What is your game, Reaver? Are you planning to use me to get to the treasure and then take it all for yourself? Well, I suppose if that's the price of freedom I'm willing to make a bargain..."

"There is no game, dearest Sparrow, just the thrill of adventure and the promise of riches at the end of it. What more could you ask for?"

Sparrow frowned at him. "There's a lot more I could ask for, I should think."

"Well, while you're thinking about that, perhaps you should think about how long the voyage will take, and how you won't be able to keep your Commander supplied with food from outside the ship while we're on the open sea."

Sparrow stiffened, her frown deepening into a glare. "Fine, then," she said, her tone almost indifferent despite her obvious anger. "I'll go on this silly treasure hunt. Maybe if we're lucky, you'll get torn to pieces by the monster that's likely guarding it."

And without a word she turned to walk away.

"There's that acid wit I've been missing so much," Reaver called after her.


	15. A Change of Tactics

Disclaimer: I don't anything that is the original property of Fable.

Author's Drivel: I posted two chapters, and used the opportunity to delete the author's note that was holding the place of chapter thirteen. So go back a chapter and read chapter fourteen before reading this.

Oh, by the way, I was re-editing the whole story, and I noticed that Chapter 5 was missing the last section. I have no idea how long it's been like that, so I'd recommend going back and taking a gander. I had to rewrite it because it wasn't even in my hard save, confound it all, but it will still adequately transition between that chapter and the next. Just scroll down to the poem and it's the section between that and the ending. In fact, read it anyway, cause it's changed. Probably quite a bit. My memory isn't too great, but I think I got the major points right. Maybe even added something new for all I know.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

A Change of Tactics

* * *

Sparrow was almost sad to watch the market of Sadrhi fade into the sea mist. She had started to integrate into the community and had become friendly with some of the locals, but she also felt glad to be moving on. She had no idea if where she was going would be any better, or would help her cause, but at least the stagnation was at an end.

She wandered the ship until dusk and then returned to her cell, but as she settled down, the continued silence was broken by approaching footsteps, and both she and Daniels looked up in time to witness the arrival of Reaver, carrying a massive tray filled with food.

Sparrow raised her eyebrows in question, and Reaver grinned and said, "This is all for him," he said, "assuming, of course, you're dining with me tonight." Then, before she could say anything in reply, he added, "Of course, if not, then it's all for you, and this is for him." And he held up a pathetically small parcel of food. "And I'll be waiting around to take whatever you don't finish."

Sparrow laughed derisively. "Subtlety never was your strong suit, Reaver. Well, you've got me nicely cornered and outgunned. You might as well let me out. But I'm only staying long enough to eat. I'll be sleeping here in my cell."

Reaver's smile was unsettling, while Daniels' was grim and made her feel somehow even more unsettled.

She followed Reaver out of the brig and all the way to his cabin, almost mocking herself as she remembered how this had gone the last time she had agreed to spend her evenings in Reaver's cabin. She had been such a fool then, she berated herself, to even play along with Reaver's games. His games were nothing more than glittery traps, and she would have to be wary of falling into any more of them. Eat and then get out. That was the deal, and that was all she had to do.

Of course, Reaver always had other ideas.

"You reek of the brig," he announced as soon as they were ensconced in his outer cabin, "go and bathe and change into something pretty. I'll wait for you here."

Sparrow wanted to argue, but instead marched to the inner cabin and closed the door firmly behind her. The bath was already waiting for her, as was a new set of clothes, and she was as quick as she could be in striping off hers and scrubbing herself clean. Even as her aches melted in the hot water she fought the urge to lay back and relax, and it was barely five minutes later that she was drying herself and pulling on some flimsy creation made with a gauzy, ivory material that was almost completely transparent. She looked down and saw it left much of her skin bare, and her rosy nipples shown clearly through the diaphanous material, but she expected little else. She stepped out of the inner cabin with dignity, and Reaver smiled with amusement when he saw her; she looked ready to run him through.

"You look lovely," he said in a low purr, and his smile almost widened when she tossed her flame-colored hair indifferently and took the seat opposite him. He served her, and he watched her as they ate. She was determinedly silent, but he did not feel the need to speak, as he was merely content to watch her. Her skin almost glowed in the light from the candles, and his fingers itched to touch her. He had been apart from her for so much longer than he cared to ponder, trying not to think about her as he lost himself in indulgence, but now he only wanted her more, and for the first time, he wondered if he had been wise to bring her here to his chamber, knowing he would only want her again. As he watched her take a sip of wine, a single drop clung to her lower lip, and when he reached across to blot it away with his thumb, he saw her flinch away from him. Not withdraw. Not retreat. Not glare at him and move deliberately away. She _flinched_. Cringed, even. As though he were going to hurt her.

This brought him up short. Putting aside his fork, he stared at her, forgetting everything else but the way she had looked as she jerked out of his reach. It had caused a strange feeling in him, and he didn't understand it. She had continued eating as though nothing had happened, but he couldn't even think of eating another bite.

He rose slowly from his chair, taking slow steps toward her, and her fork hovered in the air as she watched him, now staring him full in the face for the first time. Her eyes were expressionless, but he could feel the tension in the air. She was poised to spring, to run, and he didn't know what to make of it. She was ready to run away from him. Not from herself or something she wanted. But from _him_. The difference was distinct, and he couldn't understand why it made him burn inside. His heart was pounding, but it felt heavy and sluggish, and each beat sent a ripple of something dark through him. It felt sharp and hot. He didn't want to feel this. He didn't want her looking at him like that.

"Stop it, Sparrow," he whispered hoarsely, his hand flashing out, faster than even she could see, and wrapping firmly but gently around her wrist. He felt it tremble under his touch, and he gently pulled her to her feet to stand in front of him. He looked down at her, and she watched him, half-afraid, though she tried to hide it, and half-defiant. Both increased the burning inside him, and he placed the other hand at the small of her back, pulling her against his chest, wanting her to feel the heat that was burning him, wanting her to feel the heaviness of his heart as it pounded against his ribs.

"Lovely Sparrow, don't make the mistake of waking up feelings in me that are better left dead," he said. He could see her confusion increase, but her scent was overwhelming him this close, and his already light head was starting to spin hazily. He could feel every curve of her body through the scanty fabric covering her body. He felt his thirst for her hammering at him, and he lowered his lips to hers with a groan, taking her them without so much as a warning, and tasting her as though he had not done so in years. Suddenly the past week without her seemed brutal and empty, and his mind spun almost incoherently with images of when she had finally succumbed to him, both of them filled with the intoxicating drug of the Sadrhi and the lust of adventure. If he'd had a soul to give, he knew he would have given it now for her to give herself to him so completely again, but already he could feel her struggling in his arms, and too soon, he found himself letting her go.

Through a haze of need he saw her taking careful, measured steps away from him, confused and almost afraid, and if confounded him. Why was she confused and afraid? He had released her, hadn't he? Avo knew he didn't want to. And Skorm knew exactly what he wanted to do instead. The desire beat at him, growing stronger, but somehow even that couldn't bring him to pull her back, not when she was looking at him like that.

"If you have finished," he said, gesturing to her half-eaten meal with a hand so steady it surprised even him, "feel free to return to your cell, if that is your wish."

She was still staring at him, now with more confusion than fear, but she did not need telling twice, and excused herself. As she reached the door he called her name, but he merely removed his warm cloak and wordlessly handed it to her. She said nothing at first, then mumbled something that might have been a 'thank you', and dashed out the door.

It was several minutes that he stood in that spot, watching the place where she'd vanished. And then he realized he had just let her go. She wanted to go, and he'd let her. Because he couldn't stand the fear in her eyes, the way she flinched at his touch, fought it off even as he was mindless with his need for her. His jaw tightened with anger even as he thought it. He did not _need_ her. He wanted her. He _couldn_'_t_ need her. But the sinking feeling in him was telling him otherwise.

What he _needed_ was for her not to fear him. For the first time it started to occur to him just how badly he had messed everything up when he'd lost control. But she was tearing him apart, turning his world upside down, and turning him inside out. When she was too close to him he started to forget which way was up and which way the sun rose from, and even forgot that night she had tried to leave him, just when he had claimed her as his to keep. She was leaving him feeling raw inside and out, and it was all he could do tonight to hold onto his control. If she hadn't been afraid of him, it would have been much different. Loudly, and expletively, he cursed himself over and over as he paced the cabin, eventually throwing open the door to his inner cabin and locking himself in.

How could he begin to rectify this situation? He didn't want another repeat of that horrible night. He needed to do away with this repulsive fear of hers. Already the distance between them was eating at him. He wanted to have her close. He had to find a way around this. For his own sanity.

* * *

Sparrow descended into the brig with her hear pounding and her mind spinning. No one could have seen her in the darkness, but she had wrapped the cloak tightly around herself, and was now tiptoeing to her unlocked cell and let herself in. There was no sound from Daniels' cell, but that meant nothing. Quietly as she could, she settled onto the hard floor, but almost leapt from her skin when she felt someone was already there.

"It is gettin' colder," came Daniels' voice calmly from the darkness, "an' I don' want yeh catching yer death."

Sparrow breathed a sigh of relief, but it was cut short when she tied this gesture to the silent, sullen Mister Daniels she had been company with for over a week, then said, "And you care? How did you even get in here?"

"The same way yeh did. It took some work, and I wasna sure yeh were comin' back," Daniels said, and then, after a pause, he added more gently, "but yes, I care."

"Why?" Sparrow asked, sitting down next to him close enough that they could keep each other warm. She was glad when he did nothing to move closer or touch her. "I thought you were angry with me."

"I was..." Daniels trailed off, looking for the right word. "I was feeling sorry for meself. Riskin' so much to rescue yeh an' all, then findin' out what yeh'd done with that monster," Daniels voice grew angry at the last few words, but he paused again, and when he spoke, it was with the same gentleness that he would have spoken to her with before all this mess, and the sound made her desperately homesick, "I realize I was forgettin' the important things, like findin' yeh alive an' well, and knowin' that now, at least yeh're not alone, and there's still a chance we can get home."

Sparrow bit her lip and tried not to let herself dwell on home, or how much she wanted to go back to when she had admitted Reaver into her city. She should never have cut him a deal. She should have imprisoned him and left him to rot. She shook her head. That line of thinking wasn't going to get her anywhere. "Reaver's sailing after some treasure. He wants me to help him find it. It's hidden in the middle of some jungle." She could almost hear Daniels' silent answer in the darkness. "Don't break your mouth smiling. Reaver is still willy and an able fighter."

"But accidents can happen in the jungle, so the saying goes," Daniels said with an air of casual musing. "Maybe we can push 'im inte a pool of sinking sand."

"If that even exists," Sparrow said. "I still say that 'alchemist' had taken too much of his own potion."

"So yeh agreed to help 'im," Daniels sounding, with an exaggerated tone of one already knowing the answer.

"Well, yes, when Reaver so helpfully reminded me I would have nowhere to acquire food for you once we were out on the sea again."

"And yet 'e used that card again te make yeh go te 'is cabin tonight," Daniels said.

Sparrow shrugged. "I guess whoever makes the game makes the rules."

Daniels was silent for a moment. "What if yeh were making the game? And the rules?"

Sparrow gave him a look she knew he couldn't see in the darkness, then said, "You want me to try to out play him? Reaver? The master of games and manipulation? Whom I have already lost against more than once?"

"'E has te 'ave weaknesses," he said quietly.

Sparrow almost laughed. "Reaver is not a man prone to giving himself weaknesses or letting himself be backed into a corner. He sort of has this long standing issue with defeat."

"I am a warrior, and I can tell when a man has weaknesses when I'm lookin' at 'im," Daniels said darkly, "an' I could see it when 'e looked at yeh, he was at 'is weakest."

Sparrow felt a chill up her spine at the words and fell silent, unsure what to say in response to that. Reaver's weakness? Her? Ridiculous, was her first thought. Preposterous, was her second. But if it was true... and it was slim chance that it was... how could she begin to use that to help them? She gave her head a small shake and curled up in a ball close to where Daniels slept, close enough to keep herself warm and her mind eventually fell silent and she allowed herself to fall asleep.

* * *

It was daylight, he knew that much. He didn't want to open his eyes though. He was resting against something soft and warm, and he knew instinctively it was a woman. Not just any woman, but Sparrow. Her scent wrapped around him, mixing with the smell of the sea, and as a lifelong sailor, Jack could imagine no more intoxicating a scent. He stretched, careful not to disturb her, his muscles sore from sleeping on the hard floor of the cell, but he could feel the warmth of the sun as the light slanted over them, and he felt comfortable and peaceful as he lay there. Lazily, he opened one eye, and he was momentarily stunned by what he saw, wondering for a moment if he was in a dream.

Sparrow was stretched out as best she could be in the small space, but she was dressed in a strange, gauzy, sheer-white dress that revealed more of her ivory skin than he'd ever seen. He lay quietly watching her for a moment, in silent awe as he stared at her. Jack was not a complicated man. He cared about Sparrow and could not stay mad at her for what was past, and though her beauty effected him the way it would effect any man, he felt a pang knowing the Pirate had seen her dressed like this. Had he touched her again, perhaps? Had she liked it when he had? Was she dreaming about it even now? No, if that be the case, she wouldn't have come back last night. He gently nuzzled her belly where his head lay, and she sighed in her sleep, one hand gently coming to rest in his thick brown hair. For a moment, he thought his chest would burst as he lay there, but when it didn't, he slowly raised one hand and rested it on the soft skin of her thigh, caressing all the way up to the curve of her hip.

In an instant, he knew he had made a mistake, and his movement was almost as fast as hers as they withdrew to opposite sides of the cell. He watched, breathing surprisingly hard, as Sparrow grabbed the cloak that had fallen off in her sleep and pulled it tightly around herself again. She was looking down at the floor, rather than at him in accusation as he had expected.

"Sparrow?" he asked. "I didn't mean – I –"

Sparrow cut him off. "It's nothing. We were asleep. You didn't do anything to hurt me."

That brought him to an abrupt silence, and he watched her carefully, but she avoided his gaze and focused on straightening her cloak.

"But someone did," Jack said shrewdly, half hoping he was wrong.

She said nothing, but didn't look at him either. At that moment they heard footsteps, and he looked up to see Reaver step off the last step and spot them. He was silent for a moment, almost as though assessing the situation, and Jack looked back to Sparrow in time to see the sudden flash of something in her eyes that made him want to cringe.

"Well, isn't this nice and cozy," Reaver said. "There was quite a chill last night, I'm glad to see you could keep Sparrow from catching something from the cold."

Jack looked back at Reaver, who was taking a key out of his pocket.

"I've decided this whole 'prisoner' thing has become a bit cliché. Now that we're on the open sea, go ahead and come up on deck, roam around and stretch your legs. There are beds enough on this ship. I have room for Sparrow, and you won't mind sleeping with my crew, will you, Daniels?"

Jack gave his assent, but he could feel danger emanating from the man, and it was directed at him. Nevertheless, he turned his back on Reaver and followed Sparrow up the steps. Out on deck he watched Reaver lead Sparrow away to his cabin, saying something about a change of clothes. It was unpleasant at best watching her walk away with him, especially with what he suspected Sparrow hadn't told him, but the Pirate had said she'd been with him willingly, and Sparrow had claimed that was true.

Jack walked around the ship, happy at least to be back in his element and lending a hand with the crew wherever he was needed. He had no trouble keeping an eye on Sparrow, who thankfully had come out of Reaver's cabin scant minutes later and properly dressed. Reaver, however, had stayed in his cabin, and Jack wondered to himself what the man was doing in there.

Jack puzzled over this as the day wore on, but was interrupted when Sparrow brought him a skein of water.

"Thank yeh, Capt'n," he said, smiling in spite of himself that she'd thought of him.

She nodded and grinned, but did not linger and walked away. He watched her as she stood at the wheel for the rest of the afternoon. From what he had gleaned, the bloke that Sparrow had mentioned, Alex, had been among Reaver's crew, and now that he was gone, Sparrow was the best navigator on this ship next to Reaver himself. She held herself proud and tall as she always did, and he felt pride in her, no matter what she had done or been through. Even waking on the hard floor of a filthy, smelly cell with her was enough to make him the happiest man alive, and nothing the Pirate King did was going to change that.


	16. Unspoken

Disclaimer: Me no own Fable.

Author's Obiter Dictum: To my wonderful readers, and my lovely reviewers, I, of course, want to thank you always for being here to follow the adventures of Sparrow and the Dashing Daring Deranged Reaver ^_^ The moments I receive your feedback are the moments I shine and glow cause I'm just so damn happy. I put a lot into this, and I'm always happy when people enjoy my work. I'm getting the flow of the story again, and have a lot more ideas coming, so it's moving higher on my writing priority list, so hopefully I'll be putting out chapters more like I was for the first several chapters of the story. Even I don't always see where things are going. Personally, having Mister Daniels in the mix is having effects I wasn't expecting, and he is just full of pleasant little surprises. A welcome new element, in my mind.

I'd also like to offer a few thoughts on Sparrow, as some have expressed that she's a bit off balance. I know she seems like a hard character to pin down. She's certainly surprised me a few times. But here is how I see it. At first I thought I knew who she was going to be, but it is often the situation that sometimes throws her off her game. Sometimes she feels uncertain and inadequate. I mean, she is living in Reaver's world, which is far different from her own. Sparrow is about Duty and Sacrifice, and the Greater-Good (even though she does have some darker, impish tendencies sometimes). Reaver is about Indulgence and Hedonism and Conceit. And Reaver himself does tend to throw her off with his own swings of temper. She didn't spend all the much time with Reaver between meeting him and shooting Lucien in the head, as shortly afterward Reaver left for Samarkand, but now she's experiencing the insanity that is Reaver on a much more intimate level, and that can be enough to throw anyone, I'd think. However, with the coming quest for treasure, Sparrow is actually going to find herself on much more familiar, if alien, territory, and Reaver, on the other hand, will find himself thrown off quite frequently, I think. There will be danger under every step, and the will be relying on each other to survive. There will be traps, probably some very unfriendly natives, and some very decisive moments where Reaver will either be forced to do or inexplicably chose to do things that throw _him_ off. It won't be all fun and games for Sparrow. She'll have her own dilemmas to deal with, but she, I think, will at least balance out and solidify again, becoming more who she truly is than who she is under of the sole influence of Reaver's madness. And of course, Mister Daniels is apart of the game now.

So here we go, on with the story.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Unspoken

* * *

The air was turning oppressively hot. Sparrow wiped several beads of moisture from her hairline with the back of her hand. The humidity in the air was rising. She looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to sink on her left, but there were still several hours of daylight left. The sky was still clear, indeed it was the most beautiful day at sea she had seen yet, but that meant little. A tropical storm was likely brewing. It could hit either tonight or tomorrow. But for now, the sun was blazing down on them. After twenty minutes her shirt was plastered to her back and shoulders, and gratefully she stripped it off with one hand. Underneath she wore a red scarf wrapped securely around her breasts, and she pulled her hair down, releasing the heat that had building up inside it. It whipped freely around in the wind, and feeling more comfortable, she turned her attention back to steering the ship and keeping an eye on the crew, though it was hardly necessary. Every one among them, from the boatswain to the riggers, knew what they were to be doing, and needed no order to carry it out. Sparrow supposed Reaver didn't have patience for keeping order, and so order kept itself.

Mister Daniels was working tirelessly among them, easily falling into the routine, but she could often sense his regard resting on her, and she was acutely aware of how the situation had changed. This was not her ship nor her crew. She was no longer as refined as she had once been, in her uniform with her hair tied back. In her position, respect was everything. She required respect from her soldiers, from her crew, from her people. As her eyes drifted to him, she found herself wondering if perhaps now Mister Daniels saw her differently. Saw her as someone... less respectable. But when he looked back at her, he gave her no answers. He seemed thoughtful, but his thoughts appeared far away.

A message came back to her from the helmsman, interrupting her thoughts and directing her to alter their course slightly. She twiddled the wheel smoothly, and as she did her thoughts turned to their heading. After consulting innumerable charts and maps, she had determined they would be at sea for a mere few days, assuming they were not blown off course. Once they made port, however, it would be a long journey by land to reach the town of Asaka Kagoyo, which was far inland on the peninsula. From there it would only be a skip and a jump to the jungles of the east.

Sparrow knew little of the jungles, only rumors passed along by travelers and merchant ships. Legend said the origins of all magic and creation had come from those jungles, and that creatures resembling their ancestors still remained in the old ruins nearly hidden by foliage and crumbling away. It was said no one ever returned from exploring those ruins. But the rumors only became more grizzly from there. Some claimed there were large, scaly monsters lurking in the jungle, and still others told tales of vicious, man eating plants, and, of course, the so-called Sinking Sand was a very popular tale with rumor-mongers. Sparrow personally didn't think much of these stories, they seemed far to fantastical to be true, but all the same... it would be better to be cautious.

As the afternoon wore on, Sparrow felt her eyes burning from the sun's glare off the water, and turned the wheel over to Bretton, rubbing her eyes of the stinging as she rested her head against the guardrail on the port side. Sparrow looked straight down at the water below where the ship cut through the waves, and minutes later, she felt another presence join her.

"Yeh look tired, Capt'n. Yeh should rest."

Sparrow almost smiled. "I'm not exactly 'captain' aboard this ship, Mister Daniels."

The sailor came to stand beside her, looking out over the water the same as she did. "Yeh're me capt'n no ma'er what ship we're on."

Sparrow smiled sardonically. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like a captain. Or a mayor. She felt tired. Worn. Perhaps Daniels was right, she needed some rest. But she wasn't quite ready to move, and so they stood side by side for several minutes in silence. Then, to her surprise, Daniels spoke again.

"I've got te feeling yeh've not been telling me everythin', Capt'n."

Sparrow glanced over at him, then almost immediately back down at the waterline again. "What is your meaning?"

Daniels scowled. "I been watching. Noticin' things."

"And what is it you've noticed?"

"That yeh're uneasy around this pirate," Daniels said. "I could see in in yer eyes, this morning. Yeh looked almost... afraid."

Sparrow flushed at the memory, thinking of the complete overreaction she'd had when waking, and the way Daniels had looked at her when she'd heard Reaver's voice.

"The way yeh reacted te me," Daniels went on, now watching here surreptitiously. "And then te 'im. For a momen' it almost felt... connected."

Sparrow averted her face away slightly, avoiding his subtle scrutiny. "I was merely panicked when I awoke. I had forgotten you were in my cell."

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Daniels considering this, but his suspicions did not appear appeased. Decidedly, Sparrow changed the subject. "You should refer to me as Sparrow, while we're aboard Reaver's ship. There is only one captain of a ship."

The shift on Daniels' face told her she'd successfully distracted him, for the moment, and he gruffly nodded his head. Then, after a few moments, he said, "Very well, and as there is already a first mate, and no rank of Commander, yeh'll be callin' me Jack, o' course."

Sparrow was about to respond, but he spoke again.

"And if yeh'll forgive me bein' so bold, yeh – yeh're jus' as becoming when yeh're Sparrow," he said, drawing her name out, as though testing each sound and syllable, "as yeh are when yeh're the Capt'n."

Sparrow was unsure what to say to this, and averted her eyes back down to the water. She was vaguely aware that he was moving away from her, returning to work with the other riggers, but her mind was drifting up and down with the waves, further away from the ship and along the water. She couldn't help noticing... she had never known Da – _Jack_ to be so forthcoming, or so bold in his speech to her. He was always so refined, expressing his loyalty and offering his opinions she way she would expect of a man under her command. But here, everything was different. The walls between them, barriers of station and title, were becoming more transparent. Was she more approachable as Sparrow, or had she been so forbidding as the Mayor and Captain? Unbidden, she recalled Reaver's accusations to her in her own office, calling her cold, incapable of warmth, and bogged down in responsibility. Had she truly been so?

She tried to think back to how she had been so recently as that last day back in Bloodstone, but it felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, and she'd been forced to drop that mantle of leadership. Not even as much forced, so much as _able_ to. For the first time in over a decade she had just been able to be Sparrow, unscrutinized, but she'd been fighting it so hard, futilely at that, that she often felt as though she'd lost the stability and self-determination she was so accustom to having. But at the same time, she'd been able to see other facets of herself, hidden beneath the masks and the mantle, facets she hadn't even known existed, or had half-forgotten. The face of a woman, of herself. The face of a Sparrow that Reaver himself had reminisced over. The Sparrow who was daring, who thrilled at the thought of adventure. The Sparrow who laughed in the face of danger, who single-handedly ambushed a bandit camp just as readily as she had entered the Arena.

Back in those days, mistakes and injuries were common place. They were an occupational hazard that simply came with traversing the width and breadth of Albion, facing down balvarines and rescuing slaves. You got an injury, and if it didn't kill you, it healed, and you kept moving. Eventually you got faster, smarter, stronger. At one time she could have allowed herself a mistake such as the ones she'd made with Reaver and bounced back ready to take on the next battle. Here, on Reaver's ship, away from the scrutiny of those who looked up to her and relied on her, she'd known that freedom again, however unwilling she'd been to accept it thus far. When faced with the reality that she had faltered, she had fled... almost desperately. And now... and now she was caught between both worlds. Reaver, on one side, was calling her on another adventure – or perhaps forcibly moving her along the path – and no matter how she denied it to anyone who might ask her, she could feel the old excitement that only the thrill of danger could bring, the quickening of her heart at the thought of facing daunting odds in search of riches. On her other side stood Jack, loyal, unbending, and firmly anchoring her to her own world outside this place, where she was more than just Sparrow, away from this place where Reaver held an almost obsessive control over the things he used to amuse himself.

And there in was the heart of the problem. Control. Deep down, beneath the hard work and near constant distractions she plied her mind with, she was always thinking about _that_ awful night. It was always on the edge of her thoughts, playing over and over again. After days and days, she knew every horrible moment by heart, every word he had spoken to her, the very tone and pitch of his voice. What – what he had done – had been about _control_; she understood that now. Reaver had made it plain to her, had claimed that she was taking his control. Sparrow almost snorted. She was doing nothing of the sort. But Reaver thought she was. And the more this power slipped from him, the more power he was compelled to exert over her. And then there was the thought Jack had suggested – or more like planted in her head. That Reaver was at his weakest when he was with her. That she could do more than be a helpless pawn in the Pirate's games. She could create the game, and it's terms. She hadn't believed it at first, but as she remembered the near desperation in him as he had forced himself on her, she wondered if perhaps this battle for power was what was truly putting a chink in the Pirate King's armor. And if that was the case, how could that be any help to her? Did she even dare to make that kind of gamble?

As she drifted further along the water, her gaze eventually lifted the sunset, blood-red over the water on the horizon. Lazily she mused over every step she had taken since being dragged onto Reaver's ship, taking it into the light of the Pirate King's perceived power-struggle as she watched the sun being blotted into darkness by the night.

* * *

The sun was nearly set before Reaver left his cabin again. His face appeared tense and drawn, though still youthful and beautiful as ever. His changeable eyes were pensive as he emerged from his outer cabin, but he did not immediately reveal himself. He stood in the shadows of the doorway, his eyes reflexively drawn to the subject of his thoughts. He had not been able to put her from his mind since she had fled from his cabin that morning, almost eager in her dash to escape his presence. He had not tried to keep her this time, however, allowing her privacy to change into her own clothing, and refraining from the urge to call her back as she hastened back through his outer cabin and out on deck. He had watched her pass wordlessly. She had kept her eyes averted. And Reaver had had the image of her scurrying out of the door burned into his mind. He kept replaying over it, unable to rationalize why it bothered him so much. He'd spent some time trying to settle into denial, but the churning in his gut was a constant reminder that he couldn't ignore.

Now, he watched her gazing over the side of his ship, completely still, unaware of his scrutiny. Her scarlet hair was free, streaked by the sun with golden highlights, and being blown about by the breeze, and her lean figure was encased in snug black trousers and her black boots. She had apparently done away with the black shirt in favor of a red scarf the wrapped securely around her breasts. Her shoulders were bare and bronze from being kissed by the sun all day.

Throughout his preoccupation, Reaver was not unaware that one other on the ship was aware of his presence. He could feel Daniels' regard almost cutting through him, but it did not concern him. He watched the man approach Sparrow to say something he could not hear. Sparrow stiffened, and Reaver could have sworn he'd seen her head jerk a fraction of an inch in his direction before she caught herself. A second later, Daniels appeared disgruntled about something and exchanged several abrupt words with her, but he quickly withdrew. Reaver did not watch to see where he went, his regard returned to Sparrow.

Easily, he pushed himself away from the door and came up behind her. He watched her back stiffen with each footstep she heard, and he came to stand beside her, almost shoulder to shoulder, but refrained from touching her.

"What did the lad want?" he asked, his tone as cheerful as ever despite his dark mood.

"He's not a lad, Reaver, he's not all that much younger than me," Sparrow replied casually, her tone also somehow contradicting her expression. "You're ancient. Everyone is young to you."

A smile quirked his lips. "Perhaps, but you too will far outlive him, and any other mortal man."

He thought he could hear her smiling sadly when she next spoke. "Maybe you've answered your earlier question: why I'm still alone after all these years."

Reaver frowned, momentarily forgetting his own concerns. "Outliving everyone is no reason to remain alone. You're free to move on once they've passed."

"But that's not me, Reaver," Sparrow said simply. "I want one someone, and forever, and no one else again after that."

"That sounds like a very lonely life," he said, clearly disgruntled with the idea.

"Maybe someday I'll meet someone who will be worth spending one lifetime with."

Reaver didn't want to think about that, so he changed the subject. "You still haven't told me what he wanted. He obviously told you I was watching you, but he argued with you."

"I told him to go back to work, he wanted to stay," she said easily. "Surely you've had to overrule a stubborn crewman before."

"Not really," Reaver replied. "Usually someone objects once, and when I'm done with him, no one else has an argument."

Reaver saw her shake her head. He grinned sardonically and added, "He thinks to protect you from the horrible Pirate King." He glanced quickly down at her face and was disappointed with her lack of response. She appeared preoccupied with her own thoughts, and he found himself wondering what they were. And yet, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to press her to voice them. So he remained silent, telling himself they were not likely all that important anyway, and he turned around and leaned back against the railing. His eyes traveled over several of the male specimens that made up his crew, but he remained vividly aware of her standing beside him, watching the sun sinking lower until the darkness had completely closed around them.

When all the light had finally gone and the moon showed itself over them, Sparrow turned to him as though a signal had triggered her movement, and asked, "Have you eaten today?"

Dumbly, Reaver shook his head, as though uncertain he had heard her right.

"Then you must be as starving as I am," she said, sounding as though this was the most obvious conclusion. "I'll nip down to the galley and find us something and meet you in your cabin."

And before he could even gather a thought for a response, she had disappeared below deck. He stood there silently, then realized that the whole crew was watching him stare after her. He gave each of them a lingering glare that put each man in their place and sent them back to work, with the exception of Daniels, of course. The man merely glared back at him, his fists clenched tightly on either side of him, as though itching to tear Reaver apart. Or pound him into jelly against his own deck. Reaver couldn't quite be sure which. With most of his usual swagger, he sent the man a smile and winked at him suggestively, then returned to his own cabin. The over-eager Mister Daniels could glower all he liked. The man was no threat to the King of pirates.

* * *

Jack did not join the crew below or sleep in his loose-net hammock that night. After he had watched Sparrow disappear into the Captain's cabin and not reemerge, he had remained above deck, offering to relieve the First Mate, Bretton was his name, from the wheel, and, with the night helmsman, steered the ship straight and sure as he kept an eye and ear out for any distress from Sparrow. But as the night wore on, there was nothing but the occasional murmur of voices, and sometime just before midnight, when the moon was high, the light in the rooms went out and all was silent. There was only the sound of the sea and wind, and Jack found his thoughts wandering idly. He'd like to think she would call to him if she needed him, but after their exchange earlier, he wasn't so sure.

She had pointedly denied his interference. He had tried to remain with her, to rebuff the Pirate's intentions, but she had firmly ordered him away, almost urgently. Knowing her, she was trying to protect him. If she were going to take on the Pirate, she would insist on doing it alone, and so long as he was so fixated on her, she would not allow anyone else to step between them, for the sake of their life. Jack knew the Pirate by reputation and from experience, and having already been shot once by the man, he did not second guess what the Pirate was ready and willing to do should anyone get in his way. But as he considered what Sparrow might face alone with the man, he felt he'd willingly risk being shot again if he could help her. But she was right, in her unspoken way. Getting himself shot _wouldn_'_t_ help her. As the silence and the night wore on, Jack comforted himself with that thought. Sparrow was brave, braver than any man or woman he knew, but the look in her eyes when she had ordered him to stay away from her had not been about bravery. She had told him, in the way only Sparrow could, that she cared.

* * *

Cloaked in night, the two Heroes lay side by side, neither daring a movement, both lost in their own thoughts. Each could feel the weight of the other watching them through the dark, but neither could voice their pressing thoughts. Sometimes one would pause in breathing, as though preparing to speak, but then, after a moment, they would slowly exhale, continuing their deep, even breathing, as though asleep. But there was no sleep coming for them this night. Tonight belonged to unspoken words and uncertainty.

* * *

The fingers of the dawn were reaching across the murky gray sky and still Reaver felt wide awake. Sparrow had finally drifted away some time ago, just as the dawn started to break and she closed her eyes for the last time. She was dressed in her dayclothes, though barefoot, and lay atop the blankets. He, too, had been too preoccupied to think of changing, and had lain next to her, stock still, the whole night, watching her. Now that she had succumbed to sleep, he found himself slowly moving closer to her, as though emboldened by her vulnerability. But still he did not touch her.

She had barely spoken to him through out the night, yet she hadn't looked away from him, seeming almost pensive as she had watched him across the table. Her probing gaze had seemed to be testing him, asking him questions, gauging his response, though he guarded carefully against giving anything away. He could not understand what she was looking for, and in turn found himself looking away from her.

But now that her questioning eyes were closed, he could look at her freely. He watched her face carefully, as though hoping her sleep might give something away, but her expression was impassive, peaceful. Her rosy lips were slightly parted, her breath slow and even, and then ever so slowly, they curved into the smallest smile.

His eyes darted back up to hers, but they were still closed. She was dreaming. Unlike his dreams, hers were not nightmares, and he found himself wondering jealously what she dreamed of to make her smile so sweetly, when she hardly spared a smile for him at all.

Reaver sighed heavily, but quietly, then climbed from his bed, leaving her in peace to her happy dreams.

* * *

_Click_.

Sparrow's eyes snapped open at the sound of a door, and she lifted her head just in time to hear retreating footsteps. Befuddled, she looked down at the spot beside her, where Reaver had been lying the whole night through, and then around the empty room. He had finally left the bed, then, and apparently, the room. But somehow, it felt like more than that. She could almost feel him withdrawing from her completely. His presence had been so absolute for so long she felt his absence acutely. In one second she was already scrambling to her feet, as though to spring after him, but as her feet hit the floor, she asked herself what she was doing. Was she seriously going _after_ Reaver? To what point and purpose? She had no answers to these questions as she opened the door into the outer cabin. Reaver had stopped halfway across the room, turned almost curiously, then completely as the door opened. He said nothing as he looked at her, and remained silent as she crossed the floor and stopped before him.

She couldn't speak for a moment, unsure of why she was even standing there, watching him stare down at her, a trace of puzzlement lingering upon his aristocratic brow. What had she pursued him for? What could she say?

"Reaver... I –" She paused, swallowing hard as she looked quickly away and back. He stood, patiently, as though waiting, but when she opened her mouth again, he stopped her with a finger pressed to her lips. She looked up at him, curious.

"It is not you who should speak, lovely Sparrow," Reaver finally said. Before she could make anything of that, he continued, "I know I am a brute. I know I am demanding and domineering. I know I have often been demanding of you, and over time I will have many more demands. I cannot change what I am, and I will not try. So long as it is within my power, I know I will keep you by my side. Even I do not know how or why. I have tried to reason with myself over and over again, but I cannot separate myself from this need for you. You can despise me for it, if it is truly how you feel, but you should know" – and here he took a deep breath, as though steadying himself for some challenging task – "that..." he stumbled, as though, for the first time, failing to find the words to express himself. "Sparrow," he said fiercely, his hands enclosing hers, holding them almost tenderly, "if I could do away with this... unpleasantness between us, if I could make everything right and take that night back, it is what I would do. I cannot explain the why of it, but that night – if I could have done it over, I would have done everything not to hurt you as I did. I would have loved you as you deserve."

Sparrow stared up at Reaver, stunned to silence by his speech. She had never known Reaver to express an inkling of regret over anything.

"If ever I deserved or desired forgiveness," Reaver said quietly, thoughtfully, "you're the only one I would ever ask it from."

Reaver released her hands, but before he could take more than a full step from her, she had caught his hand in turn. He hesitated, then looked back at her, but she was not looking up at him anymore. Sparrow was staring down at her hand, clasped in midair around his. Her brow was furrowed in confusion, and her lips parted expectantly, as though she wanted to say something, but then she closed them again, and little by little, released his hand until it fell away from her. By the time she realized she was longer touching him, Reaver had already gone, his voice carrying along in the sea breeze as he called orders to his crew.


	17. Hurricane Reaver

Disclaimer: No, I still don't own Fable, or Reaver.

Author's Epistle: Wow, I've jumped a lot of chapters in only a few days. I think I'm going to _try_ to slow down a bit though; really, I'm just enjoying myself too much. Swimming around in Reaver's mind is often an intense experience. His insanity is a wonder to behold, I think.

GreyhawkGal: lol I loved that "What do you call it? Tender-desperation? Almost apology? Not-rage?" I think a bit of all three. That was exactly the impression I was trying to write in. Lol I think for the first time Reaver acknowledged that there was a problem in front of him, and made an attempt to fix it (however clumsily and incompletely, but hey, who's keeping score?). Although honestly, with as deeply as I dive into Reaver's twisted little mind, it's not only Sparrow's psyche that suffers. Remember I had to take a break after Chapter 13 (I think it was) because Reaver's twisted way of seeing the world was becoming a bit... too enjoyable. I mean, I also needed time to form some more ideas, but also, well, Reaver's just so overwhelming, even just inside his mind. Especially just inside his mind. You're right, though, it's anyone's guess what his reaction to such an unguarded moment will be. As for the scientist bit, if only I could pretend I was that detached. The reality is, I enjoy watching Reaver work. Everything from the way he talks to his complete Narcissism and right on to his twisted, naughty, evil ways.

ThatBlondeGirl: I want you to know that I absolutely enjoy your reviews, you sum everything up very nicely, in a way that I simply can't. I write in the style I do because it is the best way that I write. I don't think I could put everything that succinctly even if I wanted to. Truly, when my reviewers offer me that kind of feedback, it helps me keep my own story in perspective. I'm seeing it from so deep inside the box that (especially in Reaver's case) I can't see daylight. I can't always see the whole picture. And I'm really glad you're enjoying the tale.

And I very recently saw the posters of Reaver Industry in the second part of Fable 3. They've painted makeup on him, and wrote "DEVIANT". Like that's a bad thing! He's only the sexiest and evilest of deviants!

And I'm not entirely confident in this chapter. I _think_ I've conveyed everything clearly. But I think I'm starting to need a Beta. Would anyone like to volunteer?

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Hurricane Reaver

* * *

Reaver said very little as the four of them, himself, Sparrow, the blond giant - his first mate - Bretton, and the helmsman - a man called Ishmael - who assisted in the steering and navigation of his vessel, converged in his outer cabin to discuss tactics. The storm was coming, they all knew it. Reaver was the least concerned of the four of them. In truth, he relished the idea of the coming struggle. The other three put forth the plans, thinking of everything possible to get the crew and ship through the storm in one piece. Reaver hardly paid any attention.

His eyes had been following Sparrow's every movement since she had finally emerged from the cabin an hour after he left her. He could see the dark circles starting to form under her eyes, even as she paid attention to the tiniest detail of their strategies. If Reaver could have, he would have had her look at him, if only once. He needed her to assure him that he had not needless, if still foolishly, lowered his guard before her the tiniest little bit, to show her he was, and yet was not, the monster she believed. He was ruthless, yes; he would hold on to her selfishly, too, and always keep her with him. Until he was rid of this – this _obsession_. He scowled at the word, while vaguely aware of everyone shifting their eyes uneasily toward him, and not liking the way the word sounded, even as he thought it. Obsession implied that the situation was outside of his control, but there was nothing else that fit. Very slowly, he was being forced to see that he was _not_ in control. How else could he describe the almost maddening need to touch her when she was close, the way he fixated on her presence at all times, whether she was in the same room or not? She had left him and he'd nearly gone mad, the darkness burning through him, until he'd gone after her, even against all sound reason. Would he ever be rid of this need? No, he would not, not if he repeatedly denied himself from touching her. Not if he couldn't have her. The need to have her was like a living entity inside him, constantly wearing away at him. The voice of it only grew louder the longer he held himself back from her. He had tried to warn her of that, but he could hardly bring him to admit it to himself. Voicing it clumsily aloud had been difficult, but he'd thought, as he watched her eyes darken to guard her thoughts, that she had understood.

Though he had never been a believer in fair play, something inside him had compelled him to warn her, but yet he hadn't wanted her to completely understand. She thought she was his prisoner. And he needed her to think that. He couldn't have her know that the reality was, so long as he had this need, this obsession, he was truly the one in chains, bound to the very one that wanted to desperately to be free of him.

His expression darkened further as he continued to watch her. He scrutinized her slowly, allowing his total regard to drift over her from head to toe, considering, as he gazed, the possible solutions of his problem. He saw her movements start to become edgy... as edgy as he felt. Her fingers twisted themselves in her lap. Her teeth bit at her lip. Her eyes avoided his, as though she were distressed, which made no sense to him. _He_ was distressed. This problem made no more sense to him that it did to her. He could see her focused fixedly on the conversation flowing around them. He could see her breathing irregularly. Her cheeks started to flush as her heart beat faster. As though he was touching her from across the room. If only he could touch her, she would want him again, and then she would _need_ him... and then he would have her, and eventually, he wouldn't need her anymore. He would grow tired of her, just as he did each new toy. Was that truly the heart of his predicament? Was this toy just more... _interesting_? He smiled to himself, knowing it couldn't be the problem, for he had always known she was different, and around the room, he saw everyone glance at him nervously, as though disturbed, but they quickly look away. He spared none of them a glance or thought. His thoughts were drifting farther away from them, into a world where only he and Sparrow remained. A world where she had accepted and forgiven him the monster inside him, where she was unafraid and gave herself to him completely. _Soon_, he promised himself. Someday soon, very soon, he would have everything from her.

(A/N: Just imagine that whole scene from Sparrow's perspective, if you don't understand why she was so edgy sitting there. Seriously, Reaver sitting there, silent, just staring at her. Then he scowls... scowls deeper... and then for no apparent reason, _smiles_. Personally, I think if it was anyone but Reaver, my "creep-o-meter" would be screaming.)

* * *

The first clap of thunder could be heard just before the next sunset. Some of the crew looked expectantly at the sky, watching the darkness pouring in from the southeast, gradually spreading across the sky and bringing the sunset early. Sparrow was among these. She had scaled the mainmast up to the crow's nest and was watching the converging celestial upheaval draw nearer and nearer. The black clouds hung low, and appeared to be swirling outward around some circular point. Sparrow had never seen the like of it. The sheer might and awe of the towering waves, even from this distance, sent a chill up her spine. The winds looked dangerously powerful as the distant water frothed and churned. Below she could hear the helmsman calling orders to Reaver and the crew, directing them further away from land. They had been following the coastline, but when the storm caught up to them, the last place they would want to be was anywhere near the rocks. Sparrow could see the mainland drifting even further away, until it was less than a haze on the horizon.

She easily swung down to the main deck, landing gracefully next to Reaver, who stood behind the wheel, steering his beloved ship to safety.

"Do you think she'll hold?" Sparrow asked, unable to keep the note of concern from her voice.

The look Reaver gave her was frankly insulted. "_Will she hold_?" he scoffed. "No ship is more seaworthy than _Reaver II_. She's weathered worse than that drizzle."

Sparrow fought the urge to smile even as she came up with many arguments on how his arrogance would be his downfall someday. So instead of doing either she joined the other sailors preparing for the oncoming 'drizzle'. Each had secured themselves to the mainmast with a lifeline, with the exception of the helmsman, who was secured to the bowsprit. All of the cannons and cannonballs had been secured, as the havoc they could create could be worse than the storm itself, and anything that might otherwise be thrown overboard had practically been nailed down. Sparrow helped Jack secure the last few cannons before they secured themselves. Sparrow climbed the mizzenmast and joined the crew furling the sails. As the storm moved in closer, they furled all but the mainsail and the smaller jib. It was then, as she secured the last spar, that she noticed Reaver did not have a line.

"If you get thrown overboard, on your head be it!" Sparrow called out. The winds were already picking up as she climbed down the mizzenmast, landing on the main boom.

"If I do, at least I'll die knowing you cared enough to warn me!" Reaver called back, grinning at her tauntingly. The waves were definitely becoming larger now, the sky darker. Bits of spray washed over the crew, and then, like a collective being, they braced them selves as the storm closed in around them. The change felt almost immediate, and soon the crew was soaked and freezing under the hail of fat raindrops. Sparrow could hear Reaver roaring maniacally over the deafening wind and thunder. Below she could spot Daniels working among the crew, bucketing out water as fast as it poured in. Sparrow held on tightly, watching for a moment as Reaver steered them skillfully through the crests and valleys, each white-capped wave reaching well above the top of the mainmast, and for a moment she wondered if he had truly sailed them into the mouth of hell. It seemed to carry on forever as the storm gained fury. The rain seemed to be falling sideways, and the wind speed had increased to terrifying levels. Sparrow scurried around up in the masts and shrouds. Ahead she could hear the shouts of the helmsman, bellowing directions to the crew, synchronizing their efforts. She heard Ishmael cry an order to flatten the mainsail, so she slipped down toward the tack and rehooked it toward the forward part of the boom.

Just as she slipped it over the hook, there was a loud crash at the bow of the ship, and she heard a sailor cry, "Man overboard!" Panicked, she glanced up, fearing the worst, and saw that Ishmael was no where to be found. Unable to reach the bow from the end of her rope, she hastily fumbled with the knot around her waist, but the rope was so slick she couldn't get a grip on it. Pulling the small, serrated knife out of her boot, Sparrow cut the rope quickly, then dodged out on the bow, holding on for dear life as she inched her way down the length of it, suspended over the churning black water. She felt around, finding the end of the helmsman's rope secured around the bowsprit. She held on with her knees and heaved on the rope with both hands. She felt the weight of the body at the other end and pulled more determinedly, but he was caught in the current. Even as she struggled harder, it only became more difficult, the pull of the sea in this storm was powerful beyond anything she'd ever known. Desperately, she yanked on the rope, but then a set of arms closed around hers, strong hands grasped the rope and pulled with her. Alarmed, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw Jack behind her, his face set as though in stone as he added his strength to her own. Renewing her efforts, she called upon a Hero's strength to pull the man back towards the ship, bit by bit, until they'd heaved him over the bow. He was shivering, but his grip was firm as he retook his post.

Together Sparrow and Jack made their way back to their lifelines, holding onto the ship in places as the turbulent waves tossed the ship around and crashed over them. They crested a particularly large wave, and as they went over, Sparrow felt a strange weightlessness as the ship reefed, then dove down the other side, gliding smoothly over the surface of the water. Sparrow felt her stomach settled back into it's normal place as they carefully pressed on. Over the wailing of the wind, they heard the helmsman call for them to unfurl the main topsail. Together, foregoing their lifelines, they ascended the shrouds, climbing the netted rope with all speed, reaching the top gaff. In unison they released the sail, and it billowed out magnificently, but the force of the wind jerked the gaff under their feet. Sparrow, with her Skill and agility, caught herself easily, but as she watched Jack wobble and tip, she instinctively reached out a hand to steady him. As they both caught their balance, Jack grinned at her through the thick rain, and she grinned shakily back, shivering in the cold as they made their way back down.

She paused on the climb back down the shroud, and instinctively her eyes sought out the Thief. He stood at the wheel of his ship, looking for all the world like Skorm incarnated. He was soaked as they all were, but his stance was stoic, his expression almost passive, but for the burning excitement just beneath the surface. Like her, he felt no fear. He was daring death to come after him, knowing full well who the victor would be. For a moment, she was still, staring in wonder at the Pirate King as though seeing him for the first time. After mere seconds, as though he felt her looking at him, he looked up at her, and she found herself staring back unflinchingly, wondering if perhaps this was the first time she truly had looked at him. She could see now that the true storm was inside Reaver, brewing just beneath the surface, staring out at her. But a second later he looked away again, his attention back the white-crested waves, and Sparrow forced herself to breathe before finishing her descent.

Once back on the main deck, she secured herself to a lifeline and joined Jack and the rest of the crew in emptying the ship of water. A full hour later the wind had not abated. A cannon had come loose, but Sparrow, Jack, and two other crewmen had caught and secured it. One of them, a soaking hairy man Sparrow belatedly recognized as the ship's quartermaster, was yelling obscenities over the roaring wind, promising to flay the man who hadn't tied it properly. Sparrow found herself laughing. It started as a giggle at first, then, as the adrenaline ran away with her, became a roar, filled with hysteria and defiance. The crew stared at her, and slowly, they started to laugh too. She wondered if any of them knew. She was laughing at death, laughing at the danger they were in, in this aquatic inferno, and from the other end of the ship, she could see Reaver smiling darkly at her. Her heart gave a strange twist in her chest, and Sparrow quickly looked away, her laughter dying as abruptly as it had come.

Another hour later and there was a definite slowing in the winds. Sparrow was personally relieved when the rain stopped. Her clothes were plastered to her skin, and she was frozen almost all the way through. As the waves died down to a manageable size and the winds slowed, she could hear the quartermaster taking a headcount, and her eyes immediately searched for Jack. The last she had seen him he had climbed up into the rigging. A quick glance around and she found him just descending onto the main deck, looking as though someone had attempted to drown him, but grinning as easily as though he'd just been through a minor rain shower. She smiled and shook her head as he came to join her.

"Everyone make it?" he asked as he surveyed the crowd.

"I believe so," Sparrow said. "I think only the helmsman went over, and we got him back."

Jack gave her a lazy, triumphant grin, his chocolate-colored eyes particularly bright against his sun-bronzed skin. "I'll be the firs' te say, that's the most excitement I've 'ad at sea in a long time."

Sparrow shook her head. "I'll pass on the next storm," she said, but at the same time she could feel an indulgent grin spreading across her face. It had been just as thrilling for her; her heart was still pounding. Jack gave her a smile filled with warmth and comradery, and in the moment, she felt a rush of affection, and returned his smile. Ever so slowly, his expression changed, softening. Then, just as quickly she drew away from him, her smile faltering. Her eyes darted around the ship.

"Excuse me," she murmured. Suddenly unable to stand still, she jumped into motion and left Jack where he stood, thinking of finding a drying cloth and some warm, dry clothes. Briefly she noticed the blonde giant, Bretton, had now taken the wheel, and realized Reaver must be in his cabin. For a moment, she hesitated. She had not faced him alone since that morning, and she found herself wondering what state she would find him in. Would it be better to wait? No, Reaver could not be avoided, she decided. Besides, her teeth were starting to chatter. She continued on, pushing open the door to the inner cabin as though it was hers by right. She found Reaver standing in a pair of dry loose trousers, scarlet red this time, and drying his hair. He glanced up and paused when he saw her, standing stock still as she passed over the threshold and closed the door behind her. She knew she must look a sight, but slowly she became aware of his eyes, the colors still swirling and stormy, traveling over the rest of her, and remembered that her clothes were soaked and stuck to her skin, leaving very little to the imagination. Her heart, already pounding in the aftermath of the storm, kicked up another notch, and she felt oddly warm despite having been shivering with cold minutes before.

"Everyone made it," she said, pushing strands of hair out of her face. "The helmsman went over, but we got him back."

"We?" Reaver said, his tone soft, almost casual.

Sparrow felt her expression freeze in place, acutely aware of the Pirate watching her carefully with his unreadable eyes.

"Yes, and he's alive and well," Sparrow replied, her voice low.

The Thief stared at her, silent and still unmoving, then his expression seemed to clear and his eyes, so unblinkingly focused on her, turned softer.

"Get out of those clothes," he said quietly. "You'll catch your death."

Sparrow felt her breath cease and spine stiffen, her heart pounding even harder. It was another command, from her Pirate captor, she was certain of it. No matter how softly spoken, there was no mistaking that the Pirate King had just given a direct order and expected it to be carried out. But... if she refused, would he force her again? Tear her clothes from her as he had everything else?

As she stood stoically before him, weighing her options, the Thief seemed to sense her inner struggle, and dropped the cloth he had been using to dry himself. Then, inexplicably, he opened his arms, as though to invite her, to welcome her into them. She stared, transfixed, at his hands, and until she heard him whisper her name. Or perhaps she'd merely felt it? Her eyes flickered back to his, and before her she saw the storm, churning inside him, the dark clouds swirling in his eyes, the ferocity and power barely contained. And before she understood her actions, or even made the decision to carry them out, she took a step closer to him, and then another. Her heart was beating so hard she wondered if he could hear it; it was the only thing she could hear. When she finally stood before him, she was vaguely aware of his hands moving quickly over her, opening her shirt and pushing it off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall to the floor. He was so close now she could smell his skin, could almost feel his warmth caressing her. Instinctively, she tried to retreat, knowing she was falling into his madness again, but her arms were around her, and wherever his skin touched hers, she felt heat spread through her. His warm fingers traced a trail down her back and pulled at the waist of her drawers, and she swayed slightly, catching his shoulders to steady herself as he pulled the material down her legs. She stepped out of them, hardly daring to breathe as Reaver stared down at her. His hands traced over her skin, his palms cupping and caressing over every curve. Sparrow was surprised to find she felt no fear cutting through her. She did not feel intimidated, but yet, she did not feel as though Reaver was giving her any say in the matter. He was touching her because he desired to, and she, like a willing sacrifice, stood vulnerable before the Pirate, flushed and breathless; indeed, she hardly dared breathe, should she risk making a sound.

Then, suddenly, his hands were gone, only to be replaced by the feel of soft fabric against her skin. He had taken the cloth to her skin, whisking the water away from her, leaving her pleasantly warm and dry. Then he was behind her, ringing the water from her hair. She could feel the gentle tugging, could hear the rustling of the cloth as he dried her long mane. And then she felt his arms wrap around her. She looked down to see he was encasing her in one of the plush blankets from his bed. His arms held her for a moment, wrapped tightly around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She could have sworn she felt his lips brush against the skin of her neck, but then he lifted her and deposited her on the soft bed, looming over her, his hands cupping each side of her face as he gazed down at her. Sparrow swallowed hard, shivering slightly even though she wasn't the least bit cold, and met his gaze head on. His expression was dark, unreadable, and made her heart leap into her throat.

"You look exhausted," he said at last, his voice low and husky, and oddly strangled. "You should sleep. I'll return – I need to determine our course... find out how far we've been blown off."

Sparrow nodded mutely, but he still did not release her. He was watching her as though, for the first time, he was uncertain of what he was going to do. Then, for the briefest moment, he closed the distance between them, brushing her lips, just soft enough that she leaned in closer, her eyes fluttering closed, her lips almost moaning at the familiar touch. And then he was gone. She felt him release her and draw away, she heard him cross the room and depart through the door. And only then did she dare open her eyes. The tips of her fingers were raised to her lips where they burned, and Sparrow was alone to wonder, in silence, how it was that she could burn for the Thief, who had taken so much from her.

* * *

Jack had been on watch since the storm. He felt exhausted, and promised himself he would seek his bed soon, but for the first few minutes that Sparrow had disappeared, he'd felt uneasy, as he always did when she was alone with that Pirate. As she had departed she'd had a most peculiar look about her, and he'd wondered what had caused it. He was hoping she would emerge from the Pirate's cabin, but to his surprise, it was the Pirate himself who came out on deck. Jack noted the man, if he could even be called that, looked preoccupied. His thoughts seemed a million miles away as he stopped to have a quick word with Bretton, and the first mate turned the wheel and altered their course. The Pirate then passed right by Jack without even noticing him, and the sailor found himself wondering what had him so absorbed. As he realized that the Pirate must have just left Sparrow, Jack found himself smiling grimly. On the one hand, he hoped she had put the knave in his place, but on the other hand, he hoped she had not suffered any for it. Briefly he glanced back toward the stern end of the ship, but he saw no sign of Sparrow, and so he followed the Pirate, keeping several steps back as they reached the bow. Reaver stopped there, watching the horizon. In the darkness it was difficult to see if they were any nearer land, but Jack wasn't concerned about that. He had eyes only for Reaver as several instincts warred within him at once.

"If you're thinking about pushing me overboard," Reaver's amused voice suddenly cut into the darkness, "I wouldn't try it."

Jack ignored the jibe, asking the most pressing question on his mind. "Where is Sparrow?"

He could almost hear the Pirate smiling. "Oh, she's getting some well earned rest. Poor thing was exhausted. But do not worry; I take good care of her."

Jack's jaw tightened. "Hmph. Is that what yeh were doing? Taking care of her?"

At this Reaver turned, a dark smile twisting his lips. "Why, whatever do you mean by that? Have I not just said she's resting? I put her in bed myself."

Jack could tell Reaver was enjoying taunting him. There was a dark gleam in his eye, something shrewd about the twist of his smile. "I mean when yeh forced yerself on 'er," the sailor said baldly. To his surprise the Pirate laughed.

"Is that what she told you? Did I not stand here and announce she had accepted me willingly?" Reaver asked cruelly. "Did she deny it to you when, as I am sure, you confronted her about it?"

Jack had nothing to say to that. Yes, Sparrow had confirmed that Reaver was telling the truth, and no, she had not told him that Reaver had ever done anything to harm her, even when he'd asked, but... "There's something not right goin' on. It's in 'er eyes."

Reaver gave his most winning chuckle, as though inviting Jack to share in his amusement, but the sound only sent a chill up his spine.

"My good man, I assure you all is well and right as rain," the Pirate said. "You might have noticed that even Sparrow is not always sure of herself. She's struggling to take what she really wants, but she does not fear, she knows I will be patient for her. In the end, it won't matter. It is those lovely eyes of hers that tell me exactly what she wants, and I feel it only sporting to warn you that it will be I who gives it to her."

Jack said nothing, and Reaver turned away from him dismissively, his thoughts back to himself. Jack watched him for a moment, seriously considering pushing the man overboard, but underneath that senseless urge knew that now was not the time to attack. An experienced warrior knew to bide his time... to wait for just the right moment.

* * *

Author's Epistle: To clarify, in that last part, Reaver _might_ have bluffing a bit there, and having a bit of cruel fun. As you know by now, he's not all as sure as he seems, but just because he dropped his guard for a few seconds in front of Sparrow doesn't mean he's about to show Jack the same gesture.

And I cannot tell you how much I have learned about sailing and ships and crews since I started writing this. It's kind of cool, because it's always been an interest that I've never taken seriously. But I like to be accurate in my writing, so I research this stuff before I go writing it down. Think of it, I'm educating you a little bit, and don't even realize it.


	18. Affliction

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Fable yet. Yes, still mad about Reaver.

Author's Note: As I'm sure I have not mentioned, there _is_ going to be a sequel to this story. I've been planning it for a while now, and it's gotten so elaborate, I'm certain I already know how this part is going to end. Don't worry, the end is still a ways off. We've been on a pirate adventure, and still no pirate booty. This must be rectified. And of course, none of them really know what lurks waiting for them in the jungle.

The sequel will take place leading up to Fable 3, showing what happens after this story and how she becomes Queen, leading right up to number 3. And then another sequel will happen during Fable 3, but won't be _about_ Fable 3. It's still going to be about Sparrow. And Reaver, too, when the time comes.

As for this chapter, I'm not entirely confident in this one either. I'm forging into new territory for Sparrow and Reaver. I had to find a delicate balance here in both of them, and at the same time allow a slight shift in power. I'm trying to keep Reaver in character while achieving progress in him. Sparrow, I'm trying to allow her character to progress while retrieving some of the traits about her that have been thrown out of wack by Reaver's madness. She's definitely overcoming the fear she's been feeling lately toward Reaver as the dangers around her become more intense, and the Pirate himself continues to keep her off balance. So yeah, for those of you who review, I will doubly appreciate feedback on this. It's a tricky chapter. Okay, here goes.

Warning: Sexy Reaver Ahead ;) Oh yeah, and adult content, too. (Really, though, doesn't Reaver's presence alone count as adult content?)

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Affliction

* * *

In the morning, it was as though the storm had never been. The sky was clear in every direction and the pristine, silvery sunlight was shining bright, sparkling on the translucent blue water. The first thing to awaken Sparrow was the crisp sea air gliding through the open windows. She felt it over her feet first, teasing her skin and making her toes curl. She sighed and kicked away the sheet covering her legs. She felt it slide off, then slide even further, until her backside was completely bare, and she shivered slightly but made no movement to recover it. The clean air over her skin felt wondrous, and with another long sigh, she allowed her eyes to flutter open.

She was lying on her belly, her head turned to the side. She could see the piercing sunlight that could not reach her through the widows, and the flame-colored canopy billowing around her on the breeze. And lying not a foot from her was Reaver, completely still and apparently sound asleep. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and rhythmic, seeming to follow the eternal flow of the sea. For a minute she simply lay watching him, surprised to see him so lax and... vulnerable... Perhaps that was the wrong word. The Pirate was not a man who inspired words like 'vulnerable'. He lay on his side, facing her, as though he'd fallen asleep watching her. His handsome face was expressionless, peaceful even; clearly no nightmares had come to haunt him in the night. Long, dark lashes lay in crescents, fanned over his flawless skin, and his thick, lustrous brown hair, now growing longer from spending so much time at sea, was tousled in loose curls about his head. His long, lean body was shamelessly reposed, as bare as hers, and somehow arrogant, even insolent, in its splendor. He appeared completely defenseless; an illusion, Sparrow knew. The Thief was never defenseless.

Her eyes flickered back to his face, watching him carefully for any sign of waking, but there was none. Carefully, she raised her head from the pillow, then eased closer, mindful not to disturb him. He did not rouse, or react at all as she drew closer, coming to rest beside him, observing him intently, her gaze eventually coming to rest on his lips. Usually so expressive, they were strangely passive now, only curved in the faintest of beguiling smiles. She could vividly remember how they burned when they touch hers, the way her skin burned when he caressed her with his hands. Did he have the same reaction? she found herself wondering. Did she wreak the same havoc on him that he brought on her? Silly thoughts, perhaps, but she felt at such a disadvantage to the Pirate whenever he got too close; it would have at least been consoling to know he suffered the same affliction.

Slowly, almost wonderingly, she raised her hand, wavering for a moment, her fingers hovering between them. Then, decidedly, she let her hand fall, the tips of her fingers coming to rest just below his collar bone. She waited a moment, asserting that he was indeed asleep, and let her fingers drift, ever so slowly, tracing every beautifully defined muscle. His chest was hard, his sun-kissed skin contrastingly smooth and soft. As she reached the muscles defining his stomach, she heard a distinct sigh fall from his lips. Her eyes darted to his face again, but there was no change. She knew she ought to be afraid, that she ought to stop what she was doing right now and leave while he was still asleep, but somehow she didn't feel afraid. Maybe it was because death had been so close on her heels, or maybe she simply felt braver when Reaver was not awake and was unaware of her perusal, but she found herself emboldened, and so she continued, her eyes following the progress of her fingers. Monster or not, he was truly beautiful to behold. In a way, it was almost hard to believe something so evil could be so... perfect. There were no flaws on Reaver's body... No, those were reserved for his soul.

As her fingers dropped lower, she felt something brush against her palm at the moment she heard Reaver moan quietly. Startled, she jerked her hand away, her eyes widening when she saw his member, hard and thick, standing at attention against his sculpted stomach. Instinctively, her eyes flickered back to his, and they were open, staring at her in mute surprise. For a moment they stayed that way, each watching the other. Sparrow noted his eyes were a translucent blue, the color of the sea after a storm, and filled with a dark, relentless burning. A shiver passed down her spine. Surprisingly, he made no move toward her, merely allowing his eyes to stray over her. Sparrow swallowed hard. Though she had been under Reaver's thorough scrutiny many times, somehow it felt more intimate each time, and she wondered how many men could look at a woman with such devastating hunger in their eyes. Even without his touch, she could feel heat rising wherever his gaze lingered; it curled along her limbs and low into her belly, slowly devouring her.

Looking down, she saw his fist clenched, and with a start she realized he was holding himself back. Puzzled, she looked back into his eyes, asking questions, yet unable to voice the words. Instead, her hand lifted tentatively between them again, but this time she gently touched his face, lightly smoothing her fingertips over each perfect, aristocratic line, leaving his lips for last, hesitating over them, and then pulling her hand away. Abruptly, the Thief reached out and snatched her wrist. Her hand had barely moved an inch from his skin.

"You reach for me, and withdraw from me," Reaver said musingly, his voice low and husky; his hold was gentle but his eyes intent, searching. "Why?"

The question was so stark, so simple. It should have been easy to answer, but when her lips parted no sound came out. Reaver, meanwhile, seemed prepared to wait for her answer. He distracted himself with her hand, opening her fingers one by one, then placed a small kiss on the exact center of her palm, followed by a trail of light kisses to her wrist. He nibbled gently on the skin there, his eyes suddenly locking with hers again. Sparrow knew she wasn't breathing, but somehow, that didn't seem important right now.

"You're not afraid," he said. Then he clarified, "Not of me. Tell me truly, Sparrow. Why do you withhold yourself from me with such determination?"

Sparrow swallowed. Indeed, she no longer felt angry, or even afraid. And at this moment, she didn't think much of her determination either. After the storm... it felt as if the demons in her had run their course, as though the violence and the ferocity had been churning away inside her as much as around her, as much as it did within Reaver, and now, like the real storm, had blown itself out, and only the calm was left. Now there was just this, the Thief's blatant, probing question. Then, at almost a whisper, she said, "I feel like I'm losing myself with you. Every time we're too close. One of us loses control, I lose something to you."

Reaver stroked her wrist thoughtfully. Sparrow waited, her breath bated, unable to even speculate what was going on behind those eyes.

"There are things I want from you," he said finally. "So much I want to take from you, lovely Sparrow, so much I want you to give to me. But there is much I want to give you."

"What could you possibly give to me that I would accept in trade for my freedom?" Sparrow asked, her heart clenching in her chest, but vaguely uncomfortable with speaking to Reaver on this depth. Manipulation was his game, and he was a master. What if she gave something away? Exposed another vulnerability for him to use against her?

"To start," Reaver said, now pulling her closer, until they were almost nose to nose, "I want you to be free."

Sparrow scowled disbelievingly. "You keep me as your prisoner to give me freedom?"

Reaver smirked wryly. "I am not one of your subjects, someone looking up to you for leadership. I do not expect anything that your 'responsibilities' demand of you. I want nothing more than for you to be Sparrow. My Sparrow. The Sparrow who laughs derisively in Death's face in the midst of Skorm's inferno." His fingers trailed lightly over her shoulder and down her arm. "You were truly magnificent last night... a divine being among mortals, defying the old gods themselves." Sparrow blushed at this. This had been exactly how she had thought of him, standing at the wheel of his ship, challenging any power that thought itself higher than him. But... she wasn't like Reaver. She _couldn_'_t _be. Reaver thought of himself as higher than other men, and he treated mortals like insignificant worms beneath his feet, easily used and easily discarded.

"Would you have me be like you?" she asked harshly. "Ruthless and violent, living an eternal life dealing in pleasure and death?"

"Well, I can't deny it would certainly be easier if you were less inhibited," he said, his eyes twinkling when she glared at him. "But perhaps we are more alike than you would like to admit." Reaver was advancing on her with a devilish smile, and Sparrow found herself retreating, but the wall of the cabin was behind her and there was not far to go.

"What do you mean?" Sparrow asked, her voice far less steady than it had been so far. Her heart started to pound erratically as Reaver trapped her with his body.

"Only that it was you who disturbed my sleep," he said, his eyes almost sparkling as he pressed on. "I was peacefully unawares until I woke to your hands all over me."

"They were not _all over_ you," Sparrow said indignantly even as she looked away, blushing heatedly. She braced herself for the Pirate's answering taunt, but he said nothing, instead lifting her chin, forcing her eyes up to his.

"Why did you reach out for me, love, when you reject my every advance? When you deny my desire for you?" he asked, his fingers gently brushing an unruly, flame-colored ringlet back from her face. Sparrow was completely still under his touch, unable to believe she was having this conversation with the Pirate. She expected to be taunted and teased, or even for him to accept her touch as an advance on himself without a second thought... but this intense questioning was not something she would have foreseen from the him. Did she dare tell the truth?

"I was curious," she said carefully, watching his face closely for any reaction, any insight into what he was thinking. "Curious about what you feel when I touch you."

The Thief's eyes were inscrutable, giving away nothing, and she felt an increasing sense of anxiety; bit by bit she was more and more exposed to him, and he remained like a stone wall before her – impassable and unyielding. But she could already see another question forming in his eyes, and she subconsciously braced herself.

"What are you expecting I feel?" the Thief asked, his eyes boring into hers.

Sparrow swallowed, now wishing she had kept her curiosity to herself and listened to the voice that had urged her to flee. It wasn't so much the questions that bothered her, though those were peculiar enough in themselves... it was the careful way he was guarding himself, not allowing any hint of his thoughts to slip.

"Are you expecting to find a weakness within me?" he asked suddenly, and she felt his hold on her imperceptibly tighten.

Sparrow's eyes widened in surprise, her head shaking in abject disbelief. "No, no... it's nothing like that..." she lied breathlessly. "I – I wanted to know if you felt the same as I do... when you're touching me." That much, at least, was true.

Like that, the burning returned to his eyes, brighter this time, hotter, and his hold tightened still further. "And what do you feel?" he asked low, as though he were asking himself, and one finger began to trail lightly along her bare skin. "What does Sparrow feel at the hands of the Pirate King?"

"I – I –" Sparrow could feel herself warming still further at his touch. His fingers became increasingly bold, tracing over every line and curve of her body, every bit as intimately as she had explored him... He traced her breasts, her belly, her hips... When he lifted her leg over his and slid his fingers down to softly trace her folds, her breath caught in her throat, but he stopped just short of giving her what her body so keenly wanted and took possession of her chin again, lifting her face up to his.

Then, ever so gently, he kissed her. Sparrow's eyes fluttered closed as their lips barely touched, seeming to hover around each other. Then, on a spur of decisiveness and impulse, she leaned closer, pressing her lips firmly to his. With a deep, heart-wrenching moan, Reaver pursued his assault, a roaring gaining volume within him. She was closer than he'd had her in so long, and her lips opened for him, her tongue meeting his hesitantly. He was burning alive for her, and his determination to have her returned with a vengeance. His hold on her turned possessive, but he tried to remain gentle; it felt like a losing battle.

Reaver groaned as he tasted her mouth, pressing her back into the soft bed, struggling for control as her legs and arms wrapped themselves around him. He kissed her over and over, as though dying for thirst of her, and Sparrow, against all reason, began to respond in earnest, her lips as eager as his own, her fingers threading through his hair to hold him to her.

And then he pulled away, lifting his lips from hers. He looked down at her, his lips parted to speak, though he seemed to be weighing his words carefully.

"When I feel you – when you look at me even – I find myself... wanting for control," he finally conceded. Sparrow held her breath, remaining silent. The Thief frowned to himself, staring into her eyes as though he would find the words he was looking for there. "Whatever this feeling is called – infatuation... love... obsession – it is more powerful than anything I have known..." The pad of his thumb softly stroked against her cheek. His eyes were still boring into hers, mesmerizing her. "I have never experienced such a thing before... but for it, I will hold onto you, give you love, drown you in pleasure, and make sure your every need is fulfilled; you are my Sparrow, for as long as I cannot look at you without wanting you."

Sparrow swallowed hard. His gaze had turned hungry as he continued to stare down at her. The intensity burning in his eyes was almost unnerving, but when his lips fused with hers once more, her heart took flight within her, seeming to expand as it did. Something was building inside her, continuously growing, and as Reaver had described, it was stronger than anything she'd known. It compelled her to reach for the Pirate as he ignited the flames that were meant to consume her, and with a cry of surprise she found herself being lifted from the soft covers.

The Thief rolled onto his back with Sparrow in his arms, and her knees instinctively fell apart to straddle his hips. Her glorious mane of hair fell about them like a mantle of flames, trailing along his skin wherever the soft curls fell. His hands seemed to be everywhere; cradling her head to hold her to his marauding lips; threading through her hair; caressing her long, slender back and slipping down to cup her soft, round derriere; they then slid down the back of her thighs, where his fingers wrapped around her knees, pulling them higher along his sides, tilting her hips until she could feel his shaft, hard and demanding, pressed intimately against her, sliding between her wet folds. Moist heat bled from her, coating him, until his shaft slid easily down and up against her tender core. The Thief released a groan saturated in desire and anguish, the sound reverberating through Sparrow, fueling the molten agony burning inside her, until every cell inside her was inflamed. She could feel her own control slipping, and desperate for something to hold onto, she broke her lips away from his and looked into his eyes.

"Don't run away again," he groaned, his eyes fierce. "Love me, Sparrow," he ground out huskily, his hands sliding sensuously up her legs, "I need to feel you loving me." And Sparrow believed him. The Thief was the very picture of need, his breath as ragged as her own, his eyes blazing, swirling with darkness and a craving that inflamed her, every nerve burning so hot she whimpered in agony, and she moved instinctively, her hips shifting against his, sliding her folds along his rigid shaft. Sparrow watched a spasm flicker across the Thief's face, felt his hands tighten almost painfully around her hips. He held himself unnaturally still, seeming to hold his very breath, and Sparrow felt something else rising inside her, clawing at her insides as she watched him, burning with him, feeding off his blatant desire.

Tentatively, she repeated the motion, and watched his eyes flutter closed as another groan was torn from his lips. In the same moment, the heat inside her reached unbearable levels, and she answered him, her low, husky whimper harmonizing with his. Placing her palms against his chest, she pushed herself up, looking down at the Pirate who hovered between ecstasy and agony beneath her. His fingers were biting into her hips, but he did not direct her movements; indeed, he seemed to be merely holding onto her, as desperately as he was holding on to his self-control. She could see it in his face, the battle becoming more volatile with each ragged rise and fall of his chest. But he did not give in, and Sparrow noted with surprise that he was allowing her to decide what happened from here. The knowledge sent another wave of molten heat along her body, and she found herself urging him further towards the ledge, but for some reason he did not go over. More aggressively, she ground her hips into his, sliding up his shaft until the tip was pressed against her entrance. Instinctively, his hips thrust upward, but she was ready and shifted at just the right moment and slid back down him. He hissed, his eyes clenching tight; she could see the war intensifying inside him, but still she pushed him further, sliding along his length again, higher, until the head of his shaft was at the entrance of her dripping core. Three times she did this, but he made no further attempts to enter her. Her blood was burning inside her; her sheath felt so tight and sensitive, and sanity seemed to be slipping further and further away. At last she allowed herself to slide down his length, and they both gasped in anguish as it slid inside her. Sparrow's head fell back, crying out in rapture as he started to fill her, started to fill the burning emptiness inside her.

The Thief dropped his hands from her waist, grappling with his restraint as he slipped his hands between her thighs and under her hips, sliding them back until he was holding her bottom in his palms. Sparrow lifted her shoulders higher, as though trying to force herself down onto him, but the Pirate did not yield. Gritting his teeth, Reaver slowly eased her down, both of them crying out as her slick, burning muscles closed around him, squeezing him tighter, pulling him in deeper as he stretched her. The Thief felt his control slip for a second, and she slid several inches before he caught himself again. They both cried out in ecstasy, and he almost thrust himself brutally into her, but still, he held out, now watching her face as he slowly continued to impale her. Inch by inch, he watched every spasm of pleasure cross her face, savored each delightful moan from her lips, until finally, he was fully inside her, and he released her, grasping the sheets beneath them as he gave himself over to his war for control. At first, he couldn't understand why it was even so important to him, but as she placed the weight of her palms against his chest and lifted her hips slowly, holding him impossibly tight inside her as he gradually slid out, the cool breeze hitting his burning skin, he no longer cared why, only gripped the sheet as tightly as he could in an effort to hold onto his restraint.

Sparrow looked down at the Thief writhing beneath her, her disarrayed mind marveling at the image before her. She absorbed every detail; watching every muscle flexing beneath his skin, seeing the whitening of his knuckles as he squeezed them around the sheet balled up in his fists; his scorching eyes, now stormy again; the black, fathomless pupils dilated as he watched her settle into a slow, torturous pace. She heard the vague sound of fabric tearing, knowing instinctively she was testing his control, but as with the storm, the danger felt intoxicating, until her mind was spinning and her breath was coming out in ragged gasps. He was staring at her as a predator might, even as he groaned and writhed in pleasure and agony, and Sparrow found herself taunting him, almost daring him to let go of all restraint and ravish her.

As Reaver continued to watch her, Sparrow lifted herself upright, uncertainly following her instincts as she balanced herself on the balls of her feet, placing them on either side until she could lift herself with her legs. At first, she moved slowly, learning where her point of balance was. She reached the end of his shaft, hovering precariously; when the Thief's control slipped again, his hips gave a powerful thrust, burying himself completely into her in one motion. Sparrow couldn't hold back from howling in a most pleasurable pain as he slammed into the wall protecting her womb; light danced behind her eyes, and desperately, her hands reached for something to catch her. At once, his hands were there, his fingers lacing with hers as she steadied herself.

Holding the Thief's brazen stare, Sparrow tried again, slowly lifting her hips, then sliding herself down his shaft once more, repeating the motion, over and over, her heart slamming against her chest as her core tightened unbearably. Her movements gradually became faster, more frenzied, and her head rolled back on her shoulders, strings of gasps and cries pouring from her lips. Her hands wrapped around the Thief's, bringing his palms against her burning skin, crying out at the searing contact. His hands slid themselves up the tender skin of her belly, coming up under her breasts, grasping and kneading them. Another guttural whimper was torn from her as the scalding heat shot back down her stomach and between her legs.

"Sparrow."

His voice was low, husky, the way he said her name almost a plea. She forced her eyes open, looking drunkenly down into his eyes. He was on the very edge of his restraint; she could see it. His hands slid around to her back, urging her into his arms, but she resisted, pushing him further, watching the two forces warring behind his eyes, and he made some indistinguishable noise that sounded like a growl. She was pushing him too far; she could feel his arms flexing around her as he continued to hold himself back. At that moment, she felt herself let go, she _wanted_ to let go, and slowly, but eagerly, she fell into his arms, landing softly against his chest.

In an instant the Thief had her beneath him, a low growl rumbling through him as he thrust violently into her. Her answering scream was like music to his ears, torn between pain and ecstasy, and he hastily repeated the motion, groaning as though in pain.

"Tell me, Sparrow, tell me to love you. Beg me."

Sparrow looked into his eyes. They were ablaze and half-mad; his lips were set in hard line, and where she would have resisted him, instead she felt herself going soft.

The Pirate took her knees in his hands and slowly brought them up against her chest, trapping her breasts between her thighs so they thrust out at him, and hooking her legs over his shoulders. Sparrow was completely open, completely vulnerable to him, and her eyes flew wide as she felt him slide even deeper into her. "Just allow me to hear the words from your lips," he growled, his eyes almost pleading with her.

She screamed when he thrust cruelly into her, her thoughts turning incoherent as he all but split her open. "Please love me... love me, Reaver. I need you to love me!"

With a fierce growl, the last of the Thief's control dissolved, his hips setting a brutal pace as he was completely lost in everything that was Sparrow. She did not withdraw or push him away, but took him into her; her head was thrown back as she cried out repeatedly in pain and pleasure, and his lips couldn't resist devouring her throat. She writhed under him, her head thrashing from side to side, and it only served to push him further, until every muscle screamed under the force of his relentless pace.

He savored each cry from her lips, each growing increasingly hoarse, and still she continued to take him deeper, her heat almost burning him alive. His lips dropped lower to her soft breasts, suckling at her nipples, drawing each hungrily into his mouth as her fingers tightened frantically in his hair, tugging at it, her cries growing more desperate; he could feel her tighten further around him with each tug of his mouth. She was close, he could feel it, but he deliberately held her back, hovering over her to watch her face as he held her at the brink, the strain of holding them both there reflected in her eyes. Her gaze met his head on, then he heard her whisper his name, and he was lost. Fiercely, his drove into her, pushing her past the bounds of control, and a peculiar glow spread through every inch of him as he watched her fall apart, felt her sheath spasm unbearably around him, heard his own name torn repeatedly from her exquisite lips. With a final growl he released inside her, his seed exploding from him, his body convulsing with the force of it. He thrust once more into her, spilling it deep inside her shaking body. He buried his face in her throat, gasping for air so hard his lungs burned, breathing her name like a prayer, holding on to her as though he would fall away from the earth if he let go.

It was a long time before either could move again. Reaver was the first to rally his strength, prying his eyes open as he lifted his head, and Sparrow watched him through hazy eyes. He looked as drained as she felt, and she couldn't resist smiling drowsily at him. Reaver chuckled low in his throat, sliding out of her and rolling to her side, then pulling her tightly into his arms.

"I'm sure you're absolutely exhausted," he murmured, the familiar arrogance in his tone bringing a smirk to her lips. "I'll allow you to rest for now. We'll spend the day building up your stamina, I think."

* * *

She had thought he was joking. But no. Sparrow felt as though she had barely drifted off when his hands and lips were on her again, igniting the flames inside her to a fever pitch before she had even adequately opened her eyes. This happened three more times by the time the sun had set, by which time she was too tired and sore to even move. When Reaver announced he was famished, she gave him an incredulous look.

"You brute, I can barely lift a finger," she said, glowering at him. The Thief merely grinned, his smugness palpable as he took in her appearance; her lips were swollen and a deep pink, and her hair was tousled and completely unruly; her skin was peppered in small love marks and her limbs were lax and languid. She looked well-loved.

"Ah yes," he said, grinning down at her. "A common side effect of spending a day in my bed." When her glower did not phase, his expression turned, if possible, even more self-satisfied. "Very well, then I, the Captain, shall care for you diligently until you have recuperated. It is only fitting, seeing as it was me who put you in this helpless state."

In a flash Sparrow hurled a pillow at his head, but he moved so fast that he was already off the bed by the time it soared across the room and landed on the floor. She glared at him as he winked at her, grabbed a pair of trousers and an emerald-green _serwan_ from his wardrobe, and scurried from the room before she could find anything else to throw at him.

The Pirate threw the clothes on in his outer cabin before emerging out on the main deck. It was almost dark, and everything was as it should be. Bretton was steering the ship, and Ishmael was at the bow, navigating them along the Samarkand coastline. The coast was no longer endless miles of desert, but instead a sheer cliff leading straight up three-hundred feet where it cut jaggedly into the sky. They were getting closer to their destination. He agilely ascended to the quarter-deck where Bretton stood behind the ship's wheel.

"Cap'n," he greeted, an all-too-knowing smile lingering about his lips. Reaver flashed the man a wicked grin in return.

"Bretton. How much further are we?"

"I'd say we'll be arriving at Keiko late in the morning," the first mate said. Then, more slyly, "You'll be free to have a bit of a lie-in. I can send a messenger ahead to announce your arrival. You can take your time."

Reaver smiled darkly, his eyes no longer on the blond giant, instead flitting up into the sails where Daniels worked among the riggers. The man did not look his way, but Reaver was certain the sailor was listening to their every word.

"A fine idea, Bretton, see that it is done. And send young Blodwyn to my cabin with a hot meal. I'll be needing a bath, too. And don't wake myself and our guest too early. It's bound to be a long night."

At this, Daniels' eyes flashed to his, barely concealing the violence behind them. It was clear the man had something to say at the least, but the Pirate's dark smile only widened before he slipped back into his cabin, having no time for jealous sailor boys when a soft, willing Sparrow awaited him in his bed.


	19. Quoth the Raven

Disclaimer: Don't own Fable or Reaver.

Author's Note: Well, after that last chapter, obviously things have changed a bit for Reaver and Sparrow. But no, everything is not perfect. When you're in the eye of the storm, you're only halfway through it. There is still much to be resolved.

And a million thank-you's to ThatBlondeGirl for beta-ing this chapter for me. I endeavor to always give my very best into my writing, but your feedback adds an element that helps me bring it all together.

Warning: Adult Content

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Quoth the Raven

* * *

The Pirate lay awake late into the night as sleep eluded him. His whole body was sated, his mind too, both humming pleasantly as he lay there. His eyes remained open in the semi-darkness, his whole being fixated on the female lying sound-asleep beside him, illuminated by the light of a single, flickering candle. She lay on her back with her head turned toward him, her expression satisfied in a way only a woman loved by the Pirate King could be. For the whole day and half the night he had gorged himself of her, and she had willingly, if at first uncertainly, given him everything he desired, over and over.

Now he lay on one side, quietly watching her, wanting her again, but almost bled dry, too exhausted to move. And deeper down, more questions burned inside him. He was not sure if he liked all this questioning; it wasn't typically in his nature. But this was something even he had not expected of her. Indeed, he'd begun to wonder if she would ever allow him to touch her willingly. But why had she? For several hours, he'd thought she seemed just as caught up in the burning need as he had been... but then, he'd thought so before, and she'd shown him otherwise.

With enormous effort, his brought his hand up from the bed and touched her cheek, searching her face in the candlelight as though seeking signs of deceit. He found none, but perhaps the beauty of her features hid such things. Such a thing was possible, as he well knew.

He watched the light flicker over her skin and gleam in her flame-red hair, sun-kissed and shot through with gold. She looked so different from the Sparrow he had brought aboard his ship. The tight line about her lips was gone, the furrow in her brow smoothed out. She seemed to glow gold in the dim light, and he did not resist the urge to feel her skin, or to trail his fingertips down between the valley of her breasts and over the soft roundness of her stomach. Immediately, her eyes opened and she sighed, her hazy green orbs finding his. He held her gaze, remaining silent as his fingers continued their slow journey. The instant his fingers slipped between her thighs to touch her, she moaned softly, her eyes fluttering.

"Reaver," she whispered, "you can't want to again."

But he did. She needn't have looked down his alluring form to see the physical evidence; it was in his very eyes, as unashamed as the rest of him. She whimpered softly as his fingers slipped inside her, stroking the fire inside her belly until it spread down her thighs and up along her breasts, until it began to consume her very mind.

"Do you still want me, lovely Sparrow?" he murmured.

Her eyes flew open, locking with his. She swallowed when she saw the burning in his eyes, dark and Shadowed, and the stark need etched into his features. It was exhilarating to have a creature such as Reaver looking at her with those eyes, if only a little frightening. He was dark, wild, larger-than-life, but he looked at her with such pure desire etched on his face.

"Yes," she breathed, "I want you."

The smallest smile twisted his lips. His fingers left her tender sheath to slide down her thigh, wrapping around her knee and bringing it toward him. His other arm slid smoothly under her, and he gently lifted her over top of him, her back against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her hips parallel with his, and his rigid member between her thighs. She hissed as the broad head of his shaft stretched her opening. He heard the edge of pain to the sound, and brought hands up under her breast, caressing them, kneading them, and flicking her nipple with his fingers, though his touch gentle, almost reverent. He took his time, fueling the heat raging between them until it nearly scorched them to ash, until she was moaning and arching her back away from him, her hips moving against him, trying to take him in deeper as her juices flowed from her to coat him.

"Give yourself to me completely, my love," he murmured, then began to slide into her, holding her hips steady with his hands. Her body shuddered with each flare of pleasure; she turned her face away from him, her breath coming out in sharp gasps with each stab of pain as her sore muscles stretched around him. It seemed to go on forever, his progress so slow and deliberate that she could feel every inch of him filling her. She could feel his body straining beneath her, his back arching, his muscles bunching beneath her with the effort of restraint. When he was fully inside her, he held still, taking her face in his hands and making her turn back to look at him. He drank in the sight of her, his eyes devouring her as hungrily as the rest of him. Her core clenched around him in response, and he shuddered under her.

"I need you," he breathed huskily, then captured her mouth, stalling all thought before she could let his words sink in. Slowly, he began to move inside her, gently rocking his hips, just enough to make her tighten around him, her sheath trying to pull him in deeper, but each time he pulled back again. In seconds Sparrow was inflamed, her lips forming needy whimpers as her hips pushed down against him, wanting more, but he held her securely again, allowing her very little movement. He listened to her ragged breathing, savored the sound of her increasingly sharp cries and husky moans, the vision of her face flushed and strained with pure lust. He did not give in, but held out against her efforts, whispering soft love-words to her, urging her higher. He altered his pace, faster, then slower again, holding himself back even as her frustrated moans gave in to desperate pleas, her sheath now so tight around him he could barely move inside her. At last her cries reached a frantic pitch; he could feel her sheath quiver once around him, and he instantly stopped, gritting his teeth as his own body screamed in protest. His Sparrow let out a strangled cry, one filled with rage and desire.

"No, Sparrow, not yet," he ground out, holding her hips completely still as she struggled futilely. She covered her face miserably with her hands, but still he held back; then, just as her body started to settle, he started again, lengthening his strokes, lifting her hips and pushing them down again, squeezing his eyes shut as his lungs burned, his very blood on fire. He wondered if he might burst into flame; a ball of molten heat was churning away in his groin, and he wanted to let go and drive himself into her relentlessly, but as he felt her muscles flutter around him again, he stopped again.

"Reaver!" Sparrow cried, arching desperately against him, trying to take him inside her; the Thief groaned and relished the desperate need in her voice that belied her frustration. He waited several more moments, then started again, finally letting his control slip. He thrust into almost helplessly, faster, guiding her hips to move with his. Her cries echoed around his cabin, inside his mind, only serving to drive him faster; lights flashing behind his eyes as he felt himself getting closer. He struggled for control, but he knew he was lost, barely able to hold back; desperately, he slipped his fingers inside her folds and began to stroke the sensitive nub. Almost instantly her body spasmed against him, and he felt her clench around him, heard her scream of ecstasy. He then let out a hoarse shout of his own, shuddering violently as he released inside her, growling low as he filled her yet again.

They lay like that long after, both breathing heavily, pleasure saturated through them. The Thief's arms slid around his Sparrow, cradling her to his chest. His most prized treasure.

* * *

It was Sparrow who awoke first in the morning. At her first movement, she almost hissed aloud, her legs protesting the motion, but she caught herself quickly, biting down on her tongue as she felt Reaver, sound asleep behind her, his chest warm and hard against her back and his arms folded around her. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was wake him; she didn't think her body could take it. Holding her breath, she eased his arms open ever so carefully, then lowered her feet slowly to the plush, ebony carpet, clenching her teeth as her weight settled onto her legs. She felt movement behind her and quickly glanced over her shoulder, but the Pirate had merely rolled onto his back, still sound asleep. He looked peaceful; another dreamless night. For a moment she found herself simply standing there, watching him. The enormity of the past twenty-four hours threatened to overwhelm her. It seemed longer than that; little more than cat-naps interrupted by hours of distractions from the red-blooded Pirate. Asleep and bare, with a small, satisfied smile playing about his lips, seemed almost human to her now...

Her thoughts drifted back to her last waking moment. The Thief had shuddered in her arms, been almost devout as he touched her. Even at the memory she felt her cheeks grow warm, felt her heart turn over in her chest. Then she shook her head softly, feeling foolish. It wouldn't do to let her heart become soft for the Pirate. It was too dangerous.

Sighing quietly, she allowed her eyes to drift about the room and out the windows. The sun wasn't yet high; it was still early morning. She had a vague memory of Reaver mentioning reaching land in the morning, but they still appeared to be at sea. Looking around the room again, she saw the tub from their bath the night before still sitting in the center of the room. Immediately she considered having it refilled, and cast about for something to cover herself. The emerald-green _serwan_ that Reaver had worn out on deck the night before was lying in a pool on the floor, and so she grabbed it and slipped it over her arms. She took another gold cord from the bed posts and tied it around her waist to hold the over-sized robe shut, and surveyed her effect in the mirror. Thinking of a time when she would have been appalled to have her own crew see her like this, she left the cabin, careful not to make a sound.

As soon as she emerged on deck, she saw the sun was bright and just above the horizon; bands of pink and gold stretched across the sky. Most of the crew were up and about. Some appeared to just be emerging from the galley, while others were already working the rigging, or had been through the night; still others were yawning and paying very little notice to anything as they shuffled toward the crew's quarters. She could see the giant man, Bretton, behind the wheel, his blond hair gleaming gold. He grinned cheekily at her and gave her an audacious wink. Sparrow flushed pink, suddenly aware that he wasn't the only pirate grinning and leering at her, but deciding she ought to show some grit, she kept her head tall as she glanced around the ship. Her eyes fell on a younger lad she remembered from her first morning here, the cabin boy who had fetched her rag and bucket; she wondered what a boy so young was doing in a place like this. He was a tall, gangling, red-headed and freckled boy and was coming down onto the main deck on the way to his cot, clearly having been on the night shift.

"Blodwyn?" she said uncertainly.

The lad's had snapped in her direction, and she smiled hesitantly. The lad beamed back at her.

"Yes'm?"

"Is there perhaps enough water for a bath?"

The boy nodded his head. "Would you like me to have the water heated now, ma'am?"

"Yes, please," Sparrow said with a smile of gratitude. Hot water was exactly what she needed.

After the boy ducked below-deck, she slipped back into the outer cabin to escape the stares of the crew, but as she went to close the door, a foot swung out to block it. She opened it again and Jack slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Jack!" she almost yelped. She had been so detached from the rest of the ship, spending a whole day shut away in Reaver's cabin, she hadn't remembered that he would be above deck to see her this way. He towered over her, his chocolate eyes darkening as they roamed over her, filled with censure, and for the first time, Sparrow felt acutely conscious of everything that she'd done. Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she held her ground, staring him down.

"Yes, Jack?" she prompted him, her tone implying that he should say whatever he was on his mind.

His eyes flickered to hers. He didn't speak, but merely looked at her, no evidence of his thoughts on his face, but she could feel the weight of his judgement. Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the door at the opposite end of the cabin opened, and Reaver stood there, wearing absolutely nothing more than a twisted smile. His eyes flitting over Daniels, who regarded him with ill-concealed contempt, then to Sparrow, who merely gaped at him.

"Come back to bed, Sparrow," he purred, slowly looking her over. "We've still got hours before we make port."

Sparrow wanted to stay and make things right with Jack, but a larger part of her wanted to escape the ringing silence and the hard look in his eyes. With a flustered, apologetic look, she scuttled away from him and slipped into the inner cabin, closing the door between Reaver and Jack's glaring contest.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" she hissed. "Could you not have at least pulled on a sheet?"

"Of course it was necessary," the Thief purred, immediately reaching out to draw Sparrow into his arms. She flattened herself against the door, her eyes glaring at him, daring him to come any closer.

Reaver was always up for a dare.

Casually, unconcernedly, he trapped her with his arms, advancing closer until they were almost pressed together, barely an inch apart. "I had planned to wake you with a morning kiss, but you've got and ruined that, haven't you?" he grinned mischievously at her, one hand coming up to lift her chin.

Sparrow held her breath as he drew closer, his lips hovering closer to her. Suddenly, she turned her head sharply away. "No, Reaver, I know where that's going to go. Not right now. I... I'm sore. I need a break." Perhaps that wasn't entirely the truth. She was indeed sore, but deep down she felt a bit shaken by her encounter with her Commander. The image of the hard look in Jack's eyes would not leave her easily, and made her feel a twinge of uncertainty.

Reaver drew away, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twisting into the most self-satisfied of smiles.

"My tough little Sparrow is needing a time out?" he asked, sounding most amused. "Is it that she cannot handle the needs of the Pirate King?"

"I can _handle_ you any day," Sparrow growled. "But you were at me all day and night, and I'd like to be able to walk when we reach land."

The Thief chuckled darkly, then, so fast she couldn't see it, his hand bunched in her hair, tilting her head back to capture her mouth with his. His kiss was slow, sensual, yet he gave her no quarter, stroking her tongue mercilessly as his free hand slipped inside the baggy robe, caressing her bare skin as he pulled her flush against him. He was thorough, ignoring her attempts at protest, continuing until she was moaning into his mouth, until her hands were leaving burning trails over his skin. A fire was starting in his blood again; he was hard against her stomach, and his hands instinctively moved to her shoulders.

Sparrow felt the robe slide from her, stopping at her waist where the cord held the robe closed. Reaver impatiently pulled at it and it fell away, dropping silently to the floor.

"Reaver," she groaned, gather the last of her willpower and flattening her palms against his chest to hold him at bay. "I mean it. I need a break. And a bath. The cabin boy will be here soon with the water."

Reaver smile darkly. "Then we should definitely continue. When he arrives, I can show the young lad a thing or two about how to enjoy a woman."

At this Sparrow slipped out of his arms, shaking her head even as she grinned, chuckling low and backing away from him. "You're incorrigible. I'll be taking part in no such thing."

For a moment the Thief was silent, watching her taunting smile, noting her eyes as they slid down to his throbbing erection, and then jumped back to his face again. His grin widened as he started to pursue her. However, before he could take two steps, there was a knock on the door. Reaver hesitated, and in a flash Sparrow was across the room, the coverlet was whisked from the bed, and she had it wrapped snugly around her, covering herself from neck to toe.

Grumbling, the Pirate turned and threw open the door, fully considering marooning the sailor who dared interrupt him. It was Blodwyn, bearing a large tray of food.

Sparrow stared aghast as Reaver answered the door, wearing not even a stitch, his arousal standing in all it's glory for the whole world to see. He displayed not even an ounce of shame as he admitted the young Blodwyn, who looked slightly abashed, obviously aware that he'd arrived bearing food at a most inopportune moment. The Thief, for his part, merely watched the lad set the tray on the bed.

"I thought you might be hungry, ma'am," the boy said apologetically. Sparrow smiled with all the dignity the situation would allow.

"Thank you, Blodwyn," she said quietly. "That was very thoughtful of you. I imagine the water will be ready by the time we've finished eating?"

"Yes'm." The boy smiled at her, then cast Reaver a nervous look, and scurried out of the cabin, eager to be out of the way.

Reaver almost slammed the door shut after him. He meandered over to the bed, content to watch Sparrow as she picked out a plate of berries and sat to one side of the bed. He joined her, barely noticing what she passed him as he watched her over the tray.

"We need to talk," she said abruptly.

"About what, love?" he asked distractedly.

Sparrow flushed at the endearment, but let it pass. "This treasure hunt. I need to see the map. We need to chart the course, we'll need to prepare once we make port, and we'll need to decide how we're getting there."

Reaver smiled. "As much as I abhor details, I'm pleased to know you're as enthusiastic as I hoped you would be."

"Reaver, I'm serious," she said, scowling. "We'll also need to decide who we are bringing with us."

"My dear, who could we possibly need? We have _me_."

Sparrow scowled.

"Oh, and you too, my lovely," he drawled smoothly.

"I mean it. We'll need a few extra hands," she insisted. "And a few extra hands with weapons in them wouldn't hurt either. Who knows what we'll meet in those jungles. Besides," she added with an all-knowing smile, "more hands means we'll be able to carry back more treasure."

Reaver grinned at this, enjoying this train of thought. Then he began to frown suspiciously.

"Who did you have in mind?" he asked slowly.

Sparrow stared down at the tray, appearing to be engrossed in choosing one of the foreign fruits before her. "Well, to start, I think Bretton looks like he can handle himself. I reckon he could arm-wrestle Hannah."

"Hannah... oh, your charming friend," Reaver said, grinning tauntingly at the memory. Hannah, or Hammer, hadn't been much fun as a woman, but she'd had the most lovely temper, and he'd enjoyed goading her relentlessly.

"You know your crew better than I do, you'd be able to pick out others," Sparrow added casually.

Reaver looked at her, silent for a moment, and then said, "What about your strapping young sailor?"

Sparrow shook her head. "Its too dangerous."

Reaver smiled, but to her it looked wolfish. "But not to dangerous for me or my men?"

"This is your hunt, Reaver," Sparrow said pointedly, keeping her voice even. "I'm willing to join you on it, but I'm not going to go so far as to place one of my best sailor's life toward the cause."

The Thief went silent, seeming satisfied with her answer, and merely watched her as they ate in silence. As they finished and Sparrow pushed the tray aside, there was another knock on the door. Sparrow called for them to enter, and Blodwyn, accompanied by a few of the younger pirates, entered carrying buckets of steaming water. They set these down, then with incredible strength, carried the full tub to the open window and tipped the contents out before setting the tub down again and refilling it. Several of the men leered at her as they filed out, but Sparrow maintained a haughty demeanor. When they were gone, she glanced at Reaver, who had already hopped down from the bed and was trailing his fingers over the surface of the steamy water. Apparently satisfied with its temperature, he lifted himself over the ledge and slid down into its warm depths with a satisfied groan. Sparrow watched his muscles ripple beneath his sun-kissed skin, along his arms and down his back, until he leaned back against the ledge of the tub. As he lowered himself into the water, the Pirate looked over at her, a wide grin spreading across his face as he noticed the progress of her gaze.

"Do feel free to come and join me, love," he purred. "There's more than enough room for two."

Sparrow cautiously moved off the bed, careful not to allow him to see her discomfort at the movement. Getting into the tub was another matter. Its ledge was high off the floor. Reaver seemed quietly amused as she considered her options, as though he knew already what the dilemma was. More to wipe the smug look off his face than anything, Sparrow lifted herself backward over the ledge, sliding into the water and allowing her legs to follow her, smiling complacently at the Pirate, who had lost none of his smugness. Already the hot water was working its magic, easing the soreness and fatigue out of her muscles until she sighed with pleasure, content to simply languish in the water.

"I have a friend in Keiko," Reaver announced as he wrapped his fingers around her ankles, pulling her closer to him. Her bottom slid along the tub until her feet were on either side of his hips.

"Why am I not surprised," Sparrow said dryly.

"He is also the leader of one of the royal families, the Prince of this city and this entire corner of Samarkand," Reaver paused in his lathering of the washcloth, his expression unexpectedly serious. "You'll want to be on guard at all times inside his city."

Sparrow frowned, concerned by his unusual tone. "Why do you say that?"

"There are eight royal families that govern Samarkand, and one Imperial family that oversees them all. This family, the Shi clan, is among the most ambitious and corrupt. In their world... it's not quite the open violence you've seen in places like Westcliff and Bloodstone. It's a major part of trade in Samarkand, and the corruption is a bit more... subtle."

"I assumed they would be corrupt if you're in cahoots with their leader," Sparrow said before she could stop herself.

Reaver grinned mischievously at her. "Touché." Lifting her left foot out of the water, he began to bathe her, taking care and patience in the task while Sparrow held on to the sides of the tub to keep her head from sinking beneath the water. "All the same, you'll want to keep your eyes open."

Sparrow only sighed in response, turning this warning over in her mind as she lost herself to the Thief's touch.

* * *

Reaver and Sparrow arrived at the Shi household just as the sun was climbing toward it's peak. It looked more like a foreign manor house to Sparrow; a multilevel structure with grand, low-hanging eaves. The design was very clean. The gardens, however, were another matter. A guard dressed in a plain robe and bearing a katana lead them through extravagantly arranged flowerbeds and great, stone water-fountains that created a natural paradise. As they followed the guard up the path leading to the main house, Sparrow was surprised to see all sizes, shapes, and colors of bird had made their home in the branches of the trees. Some of the leaves were bright orange or soft pink, adding to the surreal quality of the garden. Loose leaves seemed to be constantly pouring from the canopy, fluttering on the slight breeze that carried the faint sound of chimes with it.

"Coming, Sparrow?"

Sparrow looked at Reaver, suddenly realizing she had stopped moving to admire her surroundings. Quickly, she made to catch up with him, nearly tripping in the strange robe that she had donned, at the Pirate's insistence. It was nothing like the oversized _serwan_ Reaver had worn in Sadrhi. This robe fit her perfectly and was made of silk with intricate designs of a flowing, silver-blue river from the waist and down the skirt; willow branches brushed over it, leaving gold ripples wherever the leaves touched the water. The cream-colored sleeves were wide, forming a small pocket when she lifted her arms, and hung loosely around her chest, leaving her neck, shoulders. and upper-back bare. A large sash, peacock-blue and as wide as her shoulders and twice her height, had been wrapped around her waist and formed a simple yet intricate knot at her back. She had been unable to see what Reaver had been doing behind her; it had felt complex, but he had worked swiftly and efficiently, unnecessarily informing her he had plenty of experience tying and untying knots such as these.

Reaver himself was wearing his usual scarlet doublet and leggings, looking much as he had the day he had taken her hostage on the docks of Bloodstone. It felt almost unnerving to see him dressed so again; it felt as though ages had passed since that day.

Finally they reached the front door, which, to Sparrow's astonishment, slid open sideways, and the guard leading them slid out of his shoes at the entryway, adding them to a line of other shoes. Sparrow followed his lead, sliding out of the sandals Reaver had given her, leaving her only in a pair of thin white socks that buttoned at her ankles. Reaver grudgingly pulled off his boots, and they followed the guard deeper into the house. The floors were highly polished wood, and Sparrow nearly slid several times as she constantly turned her head about, looking more at her surroundings than paying attention to her feet. The walls were plain, seemingly made of paper, or some thin material, and the only decoration came from the occasional potted plant, embroidered tapestry, or some type of weapon or armor. It was all clean and tastefully done, elegant and simple.

Finally they came to a double-door that slid open to both sides and on the other side was what appeared to be a study. Two walls were lined with rows and columns of books, and the opposing wall was lined with windows, looking out onto another exquisite garden. An elegant desk dominated the center of the room, facing the door, but thought it strange in its design; it wasn't tall, but low to the floor, no higher than six inches, with an ornate cushion in place of where the chair would have been. The only person in the room was a man. Sparrow gave him a thorough glance, but he paid them no attention as they entered. He sat at the window on a ledge, one side of his face exposed to them, but his gaze fixed on something outside the room. From this vantage point, she could see that this man's face was one of surprising beauty. His skin was very fair, as though it saw little daylight, and his hair was long, flowing in waves around his face and down his back, the color of ink, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. His features were more beautiful than any woman's; his almond-shaped eyes were blue-gray, long and slanted, with long, full lashes framing them and complemented by thin, slashing eyebrows. His face was delicate and finely-shaped, slender and feminine, giving him an exotic appeal that would have made any woman green with jealousy.

"My lord, your guests," the guard announced, and then retreated, closing the door behind him.

With a slow grace that made Sparrow feel distinctly breathless, the man turned to stare at Reaver, his movements like flowing water. Now facing them fully, she saw the man looked utterly bored, and yet perfectly serene. A small smile touched his lips as his gaze fell upon Reaver.

"Reaver, what a pleasure."

His voice fit him precisely; it was low and deep, but very soft, like a seductive whisper in the dark. He spoke their language perfectly, with only a slight, clipped accent.

"Karasu, my dear friend, I could stay away no longer," Reaver said jovially, giving his friend a warm smile that somehow did not reach his eyes.

Karasu's eyes slid to Sparrow, and she felt more than saw him give her as thorough a glance as she had given him.

"And who is your companion?" he asked, standing gracefully to his feet. He was very tall, even standing above Reaver, if only by a few inches. He was of slender build from what she could tell, but that wasn't much as his deep-violet robes were large, extravagant, and layered. He walked with an easy grace, flowing over the polished wood to stand before them. "Come now, do not deny me the pleasure of an introduction."

"This is Sparrow, she has accompanied me from Albion," Reaver said, drawing Sparrow close to his side with one arm. Sparrow looked up at the Thief curiously, taken off guard by this unexpected, possessive gesture. She saw Karasu smile serenely, then turn to herself, offering her a low bow.

"Flightless Sparrow, bird from another shore. It is an honor to welcome you into my home. Please know me as The Raven, Karasu of Shi."

"A Sparrow, is she?"

Sparrow and Reaver turned to see who had spoken, breaking apart as they did. The door had slid silently open behind them, and a small woman stood in the doorway. The moment Sparrow's eyes locked with hers, she felt a chill run up her spine. This woman, too, was stunningly beautiful, with pale skin, and jet-black hair hanging around her small figured clad in scarlet silk. In her pale hands she held a crimson silk fan embroidered with gold. Her face was almost as beautiful as Karasu's, though her eyes were inky-black, and her lips were full and pouty, painted the color of blood. However, it was not her beauty that made Sparrow shiver; it was the cold, soulless eyes that fixed on her like those of a predator.

"Sparrow, may I introduce my sister, Koneko of Shi," Karasu said placidly.

"It's a pleasure," Sparrow forced herself to say, but Koneko was no longer paying her any attention, her gaze turning instead to Reaver, at whom she smiled seductively, her whole face seeming to brighten like the sun.

"Reaver, I am so pleased you have returned at last," she said breathlessly, gliding between him and Sparrow to place one elegant hand against his cheek, looking up into his eyes. "I knew you would come back to me."

And Sparrow could hear nothing more. There seemed to be a loud rushing sound in her ears, drowning out all noise, accompanied only by the echoing, frantic pulsing of her heart.

* * *

A/N: DUN DUN DUN! Isn't so wonderful how a new heaping helping of steaming sh*t seems to hit the fan almost the second you finish cleaning up from the last one? Actually, I'm quite enjoying this ^_^ Reaver is really in deep now, but what's this, a former mistress? And her very corrupt bother? I'll admit, I just relish the idea of how this is going to play out. Even I don't know for certain how.

A little translation for you: Karasu - raven/crow.

Karasu is pronounced like "Kah-rah-soo"


	20. The Royal House of Shi

Disclaimer: I don't own Fable.

Author's Note: Okay, as the author, I'll be the first to admit, this chapter was a challenge to write. I was trying to gradually change old and introduce new character dynamics and also introduce a new plot arc at the same time. Didn't do as much on the plot as I intended, but that's next chapter, and the chapters to come.

* * *

Chapter Twenty

The Royal House of Shi

* * *

Reaver was unaccustomed to awkward moments. Should they ever arise, he merely dealt with them in his favored manner: he disposed of them. Quick and – sort of – clean. And yet... right now, he could not think of what to do. Sparrow had been stony and silent since they had been shown to his favored guest room in the Shi palace, and no matter how casually he spoke or what subject he brought up, she remained the same: quiet, answering in only one or two syllables, and pretending to be inordinately interested in such mundane things as studying the treasure map he had provided her with as soon as they were alone, or the patterns the butterflies made over the gardens overlooked by their window.

Being Reaver, it was not long before he became impatient with her cold shoulder, and in a valiant effort to break the thickening tension, he had sat himself upon the bed, pulling her down with him and seating her upon his lap, holding her there even as she struggled away from him.

"Sparrow, stop it," he growled, wincing to himself as he heard the abruptness of his tone. Sparrow ceased moving immediately, but she held on to the blank mask she had been wearing ever since their encounter with the Shi siblings; or, more specifically, ever since his reunion with Koneko. He knew instinctively that was what had to be bothering her, but he knew from his experience with women that saying so would sound like an accusation.

"Now, tell me what is troubling you so," he prompted, nuzzling her neck affectionately to make up for his harsh tone.

"It's nothing," she insisted, turning herself away from him as best she could in an attempt to evade his perceptive stare. "I'm fine."

He left a trail of kisses up her throat along her fluttering pulse, but she continued to hold herself rigidly in his arms. "You're adorable when you try to lie to me, love."

He felt her cringe at the sound of his endearment, and knew he had struck the right nerve.

"Don't pretend you know the first thing about love, Pirate," she said coldly.

His lips ceased moving, and he felt something dark and ugly rising inside him. He could feel his arms tightening around her, almost painfully, and he took a deep, steadying breath. "I never pretend with you, Sparrow." And to his surprise, the words rang true. "Not even when the truth is ugly and frightening."

Sparrow, however, merely snorted in response. "But you've deceived me. And outright betrayed me twice. I'd be a fool to fall for any of your tricks. But as I said, I am fine." Again, she tried to escape his hold. He did not release her, unable to relax his grasp on her.

"If you are not a fool, then do not take me for a one," he growled, his fingers fisting in her hair as he brought her face closer to his, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You have barely looked at me since we met with the Shi family. Since Koneko welcomed me."

Deliberately, he goaded her, and he could almost watch the fire surfacing in her eyes. Not rage, no, her pride would never allow it, but he had clearly touched on the right spot in mentioning his mistress by name.

"Koneko..." she said, holding and expression of rigid indifference. "Yes, she was obviously pleased to see you. I imagine you've been eager to reunite with her."

Reaver hesitated in answering; the truth was, he had not given so much as thought to the fact that Koneko would be here. All his thoughts had been for Sparrow; otherwise, he might have considered the repercussions of having Sparrow in the presence of his other lover, Karasu. The sudden burning in his chest when Karasu had devoured her in that cold, detached way of his had completely thrown him, and in a moment of weakness he had shown his hand, openly displaying that Sparrow was off-limits. Did he want to put himself in that same position with Sparrow? Her very presence in his life had become almost as elemental as breathing, no matter how hard he fought it; even now he burned for her. When Koneko had touched him, worshiping him with those lovely almond eyes of hers, his gaze had immediately sought Sparrow's for the briefest moment, needing to see her looking at him. But she had looked away, her eyes fixed purposefully on the gardens beyond the window.

Admitting this would place a dangerous weapon in her very capable hands. The very thought was abhorrent to him, so much that he almost cringed. There was surely no need to expose himself so. Delicately as he knew, he tried to placate her.

"My lovely, do not fear the kitten's wide eyes and little claws," he murmured, placing light kisses around the shell of her ear. "Why, I'm sure if the two of you got to know each other, we might all come to be very good friends."

Sparrow shoved him away in disgust. "You can't be serious," she said incredulously. Then, with a sudden sweetness, she said, "I wouldn't dream of coming between the two of you. Since I'll be the one busy planning and making preparations for our escapade through the jungle, you'll have all the time you require to become reacquainted with you lover." And again she pushed against his restraining arms.

At last he released her; either that or kiss her and show her exactly who his lover was. As she had a look in her eyes that suggested fountains of blood, he chose instead to watch her wander around the room through narrowed eyes. "Is my Sparrow jealous?"

Sparrow froze in her pacing, her back rigid as she kept her face averted from his. She was silent for so long he did not expect an answer, but then she said, "Don't be ridiculous." Her voice was so calm that it surprised him. "You're bound to have lovers everywhere we go. And... I am no different than them. Not to you."

And with that, Sparrow walked from the room, not sparing him so much as a glance as he watched her progress. He was speechless, and could not even summon a thought to call her back. When the door closed behind her, Reaver did not move; he remained sitting, numbly watching the point she had disappeared at. It was a few moments before the wheels in his mind began to turn, and he found himself on his feet, pacing the room as she had; as though it were a cage.

_I am no different than them_._ Not to you_. The words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, evoking a new emotion with each recounting... No different? Of course she was different; what man or woman could make him so – unsound... but no, she could be no different; he had his lovers, and though she was... special... she was still another lovely notch on his bedpost. He was Reaver – when he wasn't killing or going after treasure, he lived to please women and men, and to know the pleasure of them... But then, he hadn't killed. Not as liberally as he would be. He had even let that traitor, Alex, live. Why? Because of Sparrow... These unnerving changes lay at her feet...

Reaver stopped dead in his stride as the thought occurred to him. Was he, the great Pirate King, _changing_... because of a woman? He caught sight of his reflection in a mirror that stretched the length of the wall before him. It couldn't be possible. He looked the same as ever. Just as perfect, as beautiful as ever. His eyes burned with their usual fire. He hardly looked older than a score. He expected women like Koneko and Sparrow to worship him. But he knew, underneath that reflection, he wanted Sparrow's adoration more. Koneko had loved him with her eyes, and he had taken it as his due, but he knew when Sparrow looked at him that way, as she did when he loved her, it was the only thing he could see. _Like a blind man seeing the sun_...

Stubbornly, the Thief shook his head, as though to clear the errant thought from his mind. That line of thinking was most certainly _not_ acceptable. He was Reaver, not some simpering, poetic fop. Sparrow might be special, he could not reasonably deny that point to himself any longer, but she was right to say she was no different to him than any of his other mistresses or lovers. She understood that readily... it was only natural that she would come to accept it soon enough. He was certain of it.

* * *

Blindly, Sparrow strayed about the manor, hardly paying attention to her surroundings anymore. One hallway inevitably gave to another, each room had a new door, and any dead end could be backtracked. Before she knew it, she was thoroughly lost, but in her current state of mind, she preferred it that way. She wanted nothing more than for her thoughts to wander as aimlessly as her feet, to take her anywhere but back to the Pirate.

It had been a long time since she had felt so wretched. She could feel her whole face burning, and an even more terrible burning behind her eyes that she refused to acknowledge. Desperately, she took deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm the pounding of her heart and the racing of her mind. She had never felt like this; she felt shaken, first by Reaver's lover, than by quarreling with the Thief himself. She could hardly think straight, torn between fleeing this place the moment Reaver was preoccupied with his trollop and running back to the Pirate and doing whatever it took to make things right... With a violent shake of her head, Sparrow tried to dismiss both thoughts.

She was acting silly. She told herself this repeatedly. She _was_ being silly. She was a warrior, forged in the fires of Skorm, and here she was, practically trembling after a little battle. She had always known exactly what the Pirate was... she ought to be more surprised at not having _foreseen_ these events than at the events themselves. The Pirate was not worth rashly sacrificing her dignity to, nor would she repeat her previous blunder and run from him in a moment of cowardice. But... she couldn't help feeling the sting of jealousy that pricked at her. It felt tantamount to a lie on Reaver's part to not mention Koneko to her while he'd been warning her about the corruptness of the Shi clan. And yet... Reaver was not a man who explained himself to anyone. He probably considered it a favor that he had even warned her of possible danger. As tender as he was with her, as much as he might make her feel wanted... even needed... that didn't mean she had a place or a right to expect anything from him. He was... Reaver. He would love her with is body, but that was all he had to offer, and he would share it with whomever he pleased.

Feeling strangely lightheaded, she pushed open the next door and found herself outside facing another extravagant garden. Flocks of birds sang to each other and the wind carried the heady scent of the pink flowers crowding the branches of innumerable trees, but she saw nothing of the elegance or beauty surrounding her, relieved only to be breathing fresh air. She took off the clean white socks, tucked them into the wide sash around her waist, and stepped barefoot off the elegant porch, following the winding dirt path, walking more slowly this time as she disappeared into the foliage. As she reached the interior, she gradually came to a complete stop, standing before a jade fountain and staring vaguely into the rippling water. Even her mind ceased its racing. For several minutes she stood, simply breathing and listening to the breeze as it made the trees sway around her.

This wasn't right. She couldn't let Reaver rattle her like this – no matter how needed he made her feel as a woman. No matter that he would be making another woman feel the same way. Allowing herself to be vulnerable to the Thief was the equivalent of exposing her throat to a balvarine.

"I wasn't expecting for you to be out here, Miss Sparrow."

Sparrow spun around so fast the naked eye could hardly follow the motion; her hand instinctively reached for a weapon, only to remember she carried none. Swallowing the sudden feeling of exposure, Sparrow faced the speaker, only to realize it was Karasu. He sat on an ornately carved bench in his dark robes with his hair flowing loosely on the breeze. A heavy, leather-bound book lay open across his lap, his pale hands holding the yellowing, frayed pages still as the wind pulled at them.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here."

The corners of his beautiful mouth turned up ever so slightly, hinting at a smile. "And yet here I am," he murmured, the word barely reaching her on the breeze. "You were so preoccupied you walked right past me."

"I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go now."

"Please, it is no disturbance. Come, sit by me, Sparrow. I find these gardens help when one is distressed."

Sparrow hesitated, then joined him, seating herself on the opposite side of the wooden seat, and said, "Is it that obvious?"

Karasu smiled, but Sparrow saw that his silver eyes were like a winter's day without the hope of summer. Up close he was much younger than she'd first thought. At first, the cold intelligence in his eyes had made her see him as older and experienced, but his face clearly that of a young, if exceptionally beautiful, man. He could hardly be older than a score. With his pale, spider-like fingers, he closed his book and Sparrow saw the cover was embossed with peculiar golden symbols. "Indeed, it is," he said. And then he was silent, watching her with his wintry eyes and his demure smile, as though patiently waiting for her confess her problems. But Sparrow wasn't ready to talk, much less to him, and cast about for a change of subject.

"I've never seen anything like this," she said airily, looking around the blooming foliage. "Did you design these gardens?"

"Hmm," Karasu said, his expression unchanged as he glanced meticulously around them. "No, I inherited them from my father, and he from his. I believe it was my grandmother who desired to create a paradise within Keiko. My grandfather would have given her anything."

Sparrow glanced around again, thinking that paradise was a proper choice of word. Their very surroundings promoted a peaceful feeling inside her, even when she'd felt so volatile moments before.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Feel free to enjoy them during your stay. Consider my home as your own for as long as you wish to stay here. Are you accommodations sufficient?"

Sparrow felt her expression turn grim, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karasu watching her with what looked like a knowing smile.

"The room is beautiful," Sparrow said evasively, trying to keep her prior agitation from showing itself. "Though I think I've lost it by now. I wandered awhile before I found this place."

Karasu stood gracefully. "Then it will please me to guide your way."

Sparrow stood and fell in step beside him, her heart beginning to pound again as she allowed him to guide her through the maze of hallways and various rooms, leading her closer to her guest room. When Karasu courteously slid the door open for her, she saw that the spacious room was empty and felt a knot form inside her stomach. The Pirate had gone, presumably to have a proper reunion with his lover.

"Maybe this room is a bit small for two people," she heard herself murmur, her feet stubbornly planted on the floor, refusing to enter the chamber. She heard Karasu's low chuckle, and he brought up his wide sleeve to hide his smile.

"Come, I have plenty of rooms available, we shall find one to your liking."

"It doesn't have to be anything extravagant," Sparrow said apologetically as he slid the door shut and led her down the hall. They turned a corner and halfway down the long hallway Karasu slid open another door. Sparrow almost gasped when she saw the interior. It had all the essentials, a bed, a low desk, and a wardrobe; but the whole room was accentuated with the subtle design of slender, leafy vines and small, pink flowers working their way throughout the woodwork and the bed frame. They seemed so lifelike, as though she could reach out and grab one, even pull it right out of the bedpost.

The curtains around the bed and covering the window were a soft sage-green, complementing the earthy atmosphere.

"Do you like it?" Karasu said from just behind her.

Sparrow jumped again, if only slightly. He moved so silently she hadn't heard him follow her into the room, and when she turned she saw him watching her reaction without expression.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "I've never seen the like of it. Surely this room must belong to somebody?"

"It was my grandmother's after my grandfather died and my father became head of the family," he said quietly. "It would belong to my mother, but she predeceased my father."

"I'm sorry," Sparrow murmured.

"It was a long time ago," Karasu said, clearly unmoved by memory. "This shall be your room for as long as you remain my guest." He turned to leave then, but stopped before he slid the door shut. "You may wish to nap and bathe before supper. I shall send a maid along near dusk to see to your care. You would honor me if you joined me at the high table tonight."

And with that pronouncement he was gone, bowing slightly before he slid the door silently closed. Sparrow did not move at first, listening hard for the sound of retreating footsteps. She never heard them. After a minute she went to the door and slid it open just enough to poke her head out, but the hallway was deserted.

Sighing, she closed the door and immediately her eyes fell on the bed. She suddenly felt completely drained from head to toe, and despite her usual grace, she stumbled for a moment as she stepped longingly toward the soft mattress. It was no surprise, with how little sleep she'd had in the past twenty-four hours, and the constant emotional upheavals she endured. It was almost a surprise to realize it had only been a day since she had awoken after the storm to find the Pirate sound asleep beside her. She felt foolish now, remembering everything that had happened inside that flame-colored canopy, but she did not waste any time or energy berating herself for it. There could be no regrets, and to her surprise, as she slid between the soft covers and pulled the curtains closed around her, she found didn't want to regret anything. Even if it had meant nothing to the Pirate, and she would have been optimistic to the point of folly to hope otherwise, it had been earth-shattering for her, to be intertwined so completely with another. Even when she and Reaver eventually parted ways, she knew she would always cherish the memory. With that thought, she snuggled deep into the feather-mattress and gratefully allowed her consciousness to begin to fade.

* * *

_Sparrow was shivering with cold_,_ but she did not care_. _Fairfax Castle loomed before her in all its glory_,_ and just the light shining down on her face from its many windows was more than enough to warm her soul_._ Her hand reached out for reassurance_,_ and chilled fingers grasped hers_._ Rose was beside her_,_ staring up at the splendid castle as though she could not believe she was really here_._ Sparrow couldn_'_t believe it either_._ They both trembled with cold and excitement as the enormous oak doors of the castle swung open_._ On the other side was an elderly, white-haired man dressed impeccably in a posh_,_ black suit_._ He welcomed them in_,_ and they entered the spacious hall gratefully_._ It was so warm in here_,_ and very bright_._ A great hall stretched out before them_,_ leading clear to the opposite end of the castle_,_ and the man in the suit beckoned for them to follow_.

_And so they followed_._ She could hear Rose chatting away with the butler_,_ but Sparrow was too enchanted by her surroundings to pay much attention_._ She couldn_'_t help noticing how empty the castle was_._ She had never imagined it this way_._ She had always thought a place with so much room would be filled with people and bustling with all kinds of activity_._ When at last they did pass someone_,_ it was the most silent_,_ most peculiar someone she had ever seen_._ His skin was dark like the night_,_ but stenciled with fascinating, electric-blue lines that seemed to glow even in the brightness of the hall_. _He did not speak as the butler greeted him_,_ but gave a slight gesture of his head_._ Then_,_ as though he sensed her staring_,_ the man looked straight down at her_._ She gaped up at him_,_ stalling for a moment_._ One of the man_'_s eyes looked larger than the other_,_ and was adorned with a glass monocle_._ She felt an immense power emanating from the man_,_ though she did not understand what it was that made her hair stand on end_.

_The man kept walking_,_ and soon Rose was calling for her to keep up_;_ it was rude to keep Lord Lucien waiting_._ Sparrow hurried to along_,_ and at the other end of the long hallway there was another set of giant oak doors_.

"_Now_, _when you meet Lord Lucien_,_ you must show respect at all times_,"_ the butler said sternly_."_Address him as _'_my lord_'._ Speak only when spoken to_._ And do _not_ mention Lady Fairfax or Amelia_."

"_Yes_,_ sir_," _they said together_.

_The great wooden doors swung wide open_,_ and on the other side was a spacious room_,_ but Sparrow noticed nothing of it as she took in the sight directly opposite her_:_ a colored glass window_._ She had never seen the like of it_._ If there was any testament to Lord Lucien_'_s greatness_,_ it was this marvel before her_._ She even forgot herself for a moment as she took in its brilliant colors_,_ but the pressure of Rose_'_s fingers on her arm pulled her attention to a man standing with his back to them_. _He was tall_,_ and when he turned she saw that he was also handsome and well groomed_._ He spoke kindly to them_,_ but with certainty and authority_, _and when Lord Lucien asked them to step in the circle beneath the marvelous window_, _Sparrow did as asked without hesitation_,_ watching this magnificent Lord with wide eyes_._ Before her was a man more worldly and more powerful than she could ever imagine_. _He looked down at her__ from his great height_,_ wearing an expertly tailored suit_,_ something so exquisite she had never seen such a thing_, _his feet secured in fine leather boots_,_ and for the first time Sparrow felt shame for her filthy rags and unkempt appearance_._ If they did indeed possess the talents he was looking for and could live in his castle_,_ she would be more than happy to do whatever Lord Lucien asked_.

_Rose_,_ however_,_ hesitated_.

"_I promise_,_ it won_'_t hurt you_," _Lord Lucien swore fervently_.

"_Come on_,_ Rose_," _Sparrow pleaded_,_ extending her hand to her older sister_._ Rose smiled at the excitement on her sister_'_s face and gingerly stepped into the circle_,_ taking Sparrow_'_s hand_.

_Immediately_,_ they were surrounded by a circle of radiant blue light_._ It was so beautiful and unnatural that Sparrow was sure it was magic_.

"_What_'_s that_?" _asked Rose_,_ a slight tremor in her voice_.

"_Nothing to worry about_," _Lord Lucien assured her_. _He paced back and forth before them for a minute_,_ apparently deep in thought as he watched the patterns in the blue light_.

"_So it_'_s true_," _said Lord Lucien_. "_Your blood – you _are_ Heroes_."

_Sparrow felt her heart give a strange thump inside her chest_,_ and at the same moment felt Rose_'_s hand tighten around hers_.

"_Heroes_?_ You mean like in the old stories_?" _Rose asked_. _Sparrow was glad Rose had been the one to ask_,_ and not her_,_ and she looked toward Lord Lucien eagerly_.

_Lord Lucien did not answer_._ He came to a standstill_,_ and after some consideration_,_ lifted his hand_._ Inside his palm a light appeared to glow_,_ and he pressed it to the wall of lights surrounding them_._ There was a flash of pain across his face and he ripped his hand back_,_ and then the lights surrounding herself and Rose turned blood red_. _Sparrow felt her heart skitter in fear_._ Apparently_,_ Rose felt it too_.

"_What are you_?"_ Lord Lucien hissed_. _He retreated slowly to the table nearest the circle_,_ clutching his hand_. _He quickly began to rifle through several papers_. "_Wait there was something –_"

"_My lord_," _Rose said_,_ her voice shaking_, "_what_'_s happened_? _What_'_s that light_?"

"_Quiet_!" _Lord Lucien barked_. _He continued to read through his papers frantically_._ Sparrow was gripping Rose_'_s hand so tightly now she could barely feel her fingers_. "_You_'_re Heroes_,_ but you_'_re not any of the three_... _One of you is the fourth_..."

_And then_, _so fast Sparrow could hardly comprehend what was happening_,_ Lord Lucien drew a pistol from he holster at his hip and turned it on them_._ She felt her heart take off now_, _racing for safety_,_ but there was no where to go_._ The gun was turned on her_,_ but Rose suddenly shoved her back and stepped in front of her_. _She was visibly trembling_.

"_My lord_,_ what are you doing_?" _she pleaded_.

"_This isn_'_t what I wanted_," _Lord Lucien said_,_ as though to himself_. "_But nothing must stand in my way_."

"_No_!_ Wait_!" _Rose cried in terror_, _shielding Sparrow even as she cowered away from the end of the barrel_. "_Don_'_t_! _Nooo_!"

_And then there was the sound of the gun discharging_,_ and Rose crumpled into a heap before her with a soft grunt_. _Sparrow looked down at her sister_'_s body_,_ blood already seeping from her into the grooves of the stone circle beneath their feet_. _She did not make another sound or move at all_. _Terrified_, _stricken beyond comprehension_,_ Sparrow lifted her eyes_,_ and saw that Lord Lucien had now turned the gun back on her_._ His face was pale_, _and_ _his hand shook_.

"_I can_'_t allow you to live either_,"_ he said_,_ his voice low_,_ almost pleading with her to understand_. "_I_'_m sorry_."

_Then_,_ in the split second that Lord Lucien pulled the trigger_,_ his face contorted_,_ becoming younger_,_ livelier_,_ until it looked like_ – _Reaver_.

_Then there was darkness_, _pain_,_ and the shattering of glass_.

* * *

Sparrow jerked awake on a gasp, then nearly leapt from her skin when the first thing she saw was a strange man sitting on the bed beside her. Then reality set in. It was Prince Karasu. He held a single taper-candle, and he was setting a tray of food on the table beside her.

"What are doing here?" she gasped, pulling her cover up to her chin as she realized she was in nothing but a nightdress. "Who changed me?"

Karasu looked down at her with his empty eyes. "I believe that was your intended's doing."

"My – my _intended_?" she said, swallowing. "I have no intended."

"Oh," Karasu murmured, sounding completely unsurprised. "Reaver had lead me to believe... Well, when the maid I sent returned to tell me you were soundly asleep and would not rouse, he came along to check on you before supper. But I thought you might be hungry, and wanted to make doubly sure you were well."

"I'm – I'm perfectly fine," she said, trying to compose herself. "I must have been more tired than I thought. You needn't have troubled yourself over me."

Karasu did not look convinced in the least. A small smile touched his lips. "You were talking in your sleep. Was it a nightmare, perhaps?"

Sparrow shrugged. "Could have been. All warriors have nightmares."

"So you are a warrior," he mused. "And you carry a secret shame that haunts your dreams. What is it that does not leave you in peace?"

Sparrow gaped at him for a moment. No one had ever asked her that before – but then, who had ever witnessed her nightmares? They were so rare after all this time; it surprised her that she'd dreamed of them at all when she'd been so tired.

"When I was a little girl, my sister was murdered," Sparrow explained slowly, not even sure why she was allowing the words to pass through her lips. Maybe it would be a relief to admit it, if just once, to a stranger. She took a quiet, steadying breath. "It was my fault." Her voice was cool, matter-of-fact, and distant, but she'd said it, staring at her knees the whole while. "I forged the path, every step of the way, and in the end, it was my hand that brought her into that circle. The man... we weren't what he was looking for. He shot Rose first. She was trying to protect me, even though she was terrified. She pleaded... begged, and he still killed her. She was older than me, but still a child. Then he shot me. I fell through the tower window and down into the town where I was rescued."

She glanced up at Karasu, who looked down at her with a most peculiar expression. It wasn't pity. He looked almost – pensive.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, looking away from him. "I don't know what made me talk about that."

There was silence, and then, in a low, rhythmic voice, Karasu spoke again. "Who sees with equal eye, as ruler of all, I a Hero perish, or a Sparrow fall."

Sparrow's head snapped up like a whip, and she found herself staring hard into his eyes. Had – had she given herself away? His face was a mask, but for the vague smile hovering about his lips. He conceded nothing. But he couldn't know she was a Hero, could he?

"Thank you for bringing me dinner," she said cautiously. "And for lending an ear. I assure you by morning I will be completely restored."

Karasu smiled gently, stood to his feet, and bowed. "It was my pleasure. Good night, Sparrow."

When he was gone from her room, his footsteps completely silent even in the darkness, Sparrow sighed and fell back against her pillows, stunned by what had just happened. She never opened up about her past. Never. She was almost as closed-mouthed as Reaver in that regard. But she had just sat there, confessing to a complete stranger that it was her fault her sister had died. At least she had not added that it was her fault she remained dead. But that would be giving away too much. She did not want this exotic young Prince knowing too much about her. It was better to appear unassuming, to blend in. But for some reason she had wanted to know what his response would be. As an objective stranger, would he pity her, blame her, condemn her?

Impatiently, she shook her head. That wasn't fair. It wasn't as though she had told the whole story. But in her mind she'd said enough. Maybe too much. He certainly seemed to realize there was more to it than what she'd let on. She would have to watch her step more carefully. Between Reaver, his lover, and the Prince, she had no allies in the house of Shi.

* * *

Author's Notes: "Who sees with equal eye, as ruler of all, I a Hero perish, or a Sparrow fall." is my variation off the poem "An Essay on Man" by Alexander Pope. The original line is, "Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall." I found it fitting right, just there, coming from Karasu's mouth.


	21. Invidia

Disclaimer: Still don't own Fable.

Author's Note: Invidia is a new word for me. It's intriguing everything that this one word encompasses, but when I couldn't exactly decide what to call this chapter, I found this and it fits perfectly. In Latin, _**invidia**_ is the sense of envy or jealousy, a "looking upon" associated with the evil eye, from _invidere_, "to look against, to look at in a hostile manner". _Invidia_ ("Envy") is one of the Seven Deadly Sins in Christian belief. And that's the short definition. Check it out on Wikipedia. If there's anything I love about writing, it's how it extends my vocabulary.

Warning: Some mild adult content ahead. M/M.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Invidia

* * *

The hour was late, and the Thief was still wide awake. And alone. He lay unclothed in his bed, listening to the pervasive silence, his eyes shut against the candlelight.

What was he doing?

After supper, Koneko had more than welcomed him to come to her room tonight. Fuck it all, why hadn't he? He was more than ready. He was hard as a rock, but even the image of Koneko's exquisite, willowy form couldn't spark enough enthusiasm for him to get out of bed. Throughout dinner he had been preoccupied, barely engaging in conversation or paying attention to Koneko's coy flirtations. In the end, she had slipped her delicate hand under the table and caressed the length of his thigh, playing dangerously close to his arousal, to get his attention, but his heart hadn't been in it. Repeatedly, his mind had wandered back to Sparrow.

He had been displeased at first to learn she had taken her own room, but when one of the maids had informed them she was too tired to even join them at supper, his annoyance had vanished. Immediately he had gone to check on her, wanting to know if she was truly tired or if she was still too upset to be in the same room with him. He had found her sound asleep, looking so small and vulnerable he had unintentionally reached down to touch her cheek. In her sleep she had turned into his touch, and her soft, warm breath had caressed his fingers as she sighed. He had felt her warmth spread through him, filling him up. His fingers had lingered upon her cheek as he'd gently caressed her lips with the pad of his thumb. Then, tenderly, he had undressed her, and when she did not stir, he had resisted the urge to wake her with his lips and fingers, contenting himself with looking at her as he gently clothed her in a nightdress.

He found himself wondering if she was still asleep, or if she had awoken; perhaps she was thinking about him. Was she longing for his presence, or still dwelling over their disagreement? If he came to her, would she welcome him or turn him away? _Go to her_, the Shadow whispered within him, the voice quiet, as though coming from a great distance, but ever-present. _Take her_._ She is yours_. He was halfway out of bed before he realized what he was doing.

What in the name of Skorm was the matter with him? An exotic, willing woman was waiting for him in her bed, and his only interest, his only desire, was Sparrow, when there was every chance she would spurn him. He fell back upon the bed, running distracted fingers through his hair. What was happening to him? This need for Sparrow was out of hand. He'd had her many times already, but he only wanted more. Every time they came together was more violent than the last. Especially the very last time. He could clearly remember how it had felt to caress her, to take her slowly and lovingly, how agonizing it had been to repeatedly pull them back from the brink, and how much he'd enjoyed every moment of it. He'd found pleasure in making them both burn alive. His beautiful Sparrow's expression as she neared release; the look in her eyes when he'd repeatedly denied her; the exact sound of her voice when she'd begged him; all of it was burned into his mind, until he was blind to everything else. He could feel himself hardening further, until it was almost painful. Reflexively, he reached down to touch himself again, his palm stroking the length of his cock almost thoughtfully as he envisioned Sparrow.

Cursing himself, he jumped from his bed and made for the door, determined to settle things between himself and Sparrow at least long enough to relieve this agony. Perhaps he would just take her in her sleep, before she had a chance to resist. But before he could even touch the door, it slid silently open. Karasu stood in the shadows beyond the doorway. When he spotted the Pirate, his eyes were immediately drawn down to the pulsing erection standing so proudly between them.

"I do hope you were on your way to my room," he said with a vague smile, stepping inside and sliding the door shut behind him.

"Not exactly," Reaver said thickly, swallowing hard. He hurt so much he could barely move. "But I might be willing to change my plans."

Karasu's smile widened, and he gracefully knelt before the Pirate King, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the base of his aching shaft. "My, my, I've rarely known the pleasure of seeing you so engorged. Might I ask, what has you in such a state that you have not sought to alleviate your pain?"

Reaver hissed between his teeth as Karasu's fingers moved over him, but did not answer.

"Could it perhaps have something to do with your lovely traveling companion?" Karasu whispered, flicking out his tongue to catch a glistening drop of fluid forming on the head of Reaver's shaft. The Pirate gasped, his eyes glued on Karasu's sumptuous lips. "The bird you cannot cage?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Reaver ground out, catching a fistful of Karasu's hair, impatiently urging him to get on with it. Karasu chuckled, and the Thief watched those shapely lips wrap themselves tightly around his pulsing flesh. His mouth was like a cavern of fire, burning him, and tight like a fist. Reaver felt his hips jerk, and he gasped, his jaw tightening as the head of his cock hit the back of the Prince's throat. Karasu chuckled, the sound reverberating through him, and his tongue curled lazily around him, setting the Thief's blood on fire. The Prince's mouth was eager as he devoured him; the Thief watched his lips sliding up his length, all the way to the base, taking him so deep he slid down the Prince's tight throat, until the seam of his lips was stretched around him; then back again, almost to the tip, hovering there before allowing the Pirate into the haven of his mouth once again. Karasu's small moans vibrated around him, driving the Thief mad until his lungs burned for air and his breathing came out in harsh, ragged gasps. He couldn't stop the thrusting of his hips, forcing Karasu to take him deeper, the thrill and elation, the sheer pleasure surging into him. As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw Sparrow before him, could feel her mouth suckling at him, and his hips thrust harder, brutally taking her mouth. The Prince took all of him eagerly, until he swelled unbearably and Karasu's tight throat closed around him; Reaver's hoarse voice cried out in anguish and delight, thick streams erupting from his shaft and spilling down the Prince's throat as a surge a fatigue swept through him and his knees buckled.

Reaver pulled out of his mouth, stumbling back until he fell onto the bed, holding his head in his hands as the room spun around him. He could almost hear Karasu smiling, and a dip in the mattress told him the Prince had joined him.

"Sparrow must be quite the woman," Karasu drawled huskily, "that you would envision her while I pleasure you."

Reaver froze, his mind reeling in confusion.

"You were calling her name," Karasu said, correctly interpreting the Thief's silence. "I never thought I would see the day the Pirate King became obsessed over one mere woman."

Reaver brought his hands down from his face, fixing the Prince with a cold look.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Thief snapped.

Karasu smiled.

"My mistake," he purred soothingly. "I shouldn't have assumed. Then you won't mind if I get to know our guest a bit better? She as captivating creature; I find myself curious about her."

Reaver had the very sudden, and very satisfying, image of Karasu with a bullet between his eyes, and himself putting it there. But then the image cleared and he merely turned away from the Prince, holding back the sharp surge of seething rage at the thought of Karasu touching Sparrow, of him knowing her in ways that only he did.

"Suit yourself," he growled, burying his face in his pillows.

There was a lift in the bed, and Karasu padded silently across the floor.

"Good night, Pirate King," he said softly, and Reaver heard the door slide shut behind him.

* * *

Sparrow rose with the dawn. It was still dark outside, but the sky toward the east was slowly creeping towards shades of gray. She yawned and stretched as she pulled her eyes open, and the first thing she became aware of was the crimson nightdress she had not originally fallen asleep in. According to Karasu, Reaver had been the one to change her into it while she slept. It unsettled her that she had been so unaware and vulnerable throughout it, but it stood to reason that the Thief's hands would be able to get away quite a lot and not be noticed.

Her first stop was to the wardrobe, but she had barely pulled open the doors when the door to her room slid open. She swiftly jumped behind the door of the wardrobe, but it was a maid. She was young, barely a woman, but had an air of competency and accomplishment.

"Oh, good morning," Sparrow said uncertainly, wondering if the woman would understand her. She apparently didn't, but seemed capable of expressing herself without words. She gestured to the robes in the wardrobe and Sparrow chose one, a simple one of emerald-green. Then the maid gathered a thin white robe from the wardrobe and gestured for Sparrow to put it on, and she complied immediately.

The maid led her out of the room, and as Sparrow followed her she tried to introduce herself. All she could find out was that her name was Korin, and that she understood a few words of her language. Korin eventually opened another door, and by now Sparrow was lost again, to what Sparrow could only assume was a bath. It was enormous, the size of ten bathtubs, and sunk several feet into the wood flooring. Submerged beneath the water was a seat that ran the entire perimeter of the bath, and the water was steaming, though Sparrow could see no heat source.

Sparrow expected the maid to depart, but when she did not, she reluctantly removed her robe and the nightdress and sank gratefully into the water. Then, to her surprise, Korin immediately started to bathe her. It was uncomfortable at first, but as Korin began to scrub away at her hair, massaging her scalp, she let her worries dissolve and soon lost track of time, content to languish in the steamy water.

As the first mottled rays of sunshine began to slat through the windows, the door to the bathhouse abruptly opened, and Sparrow hastily dipped beneath the water until it came up to her chin.

It was Koneko.

"Oh, you're here," she said placidly, and Sparrow thought she heard the faintest edge of disdain in her voice. Her eyes were as cold and assessing as when they had first met, and Sparrow felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Never mind me, I was just getting out," Sparrow said evenly, turning her back on Koneko and rising out of the water. She had barely wrapped a drying cloth around herself when she saw Koneko already undressing and sinking into the water.

"Oh, this is just what I needed," she moaned in her soft voice. "It was an exhausting night. Pirates can be such a demanding sort."

"Then perhaps it would have been better to sleep in," Sparrow said, ignoring the barb. In spite of herself, she could feel her pulse kick up a notch, and a sick twisting sensation was spreading throughout her, starting in her heart, and moving on to her stomach.

Koneko smiled at her, though it looked more like a snarl, the way she pulled her blood-red lips back over her perfect teeth. "A fine idea, but the morning calls, and the day waits for nobody. There will be plenty of nights to play about in bed."

Sparrow nodded, having nothing more to say as she waiting impatiently for Korin to finish drying her hair.

"I trust you are comfortable in my home?" Koneko asked pleasantly, but there was nothing pleasant about those cold, dark eyes.

"Indeed, I am. But we won't be trespassing upon your hospitality much longer," Sparrow said. Her voice was light, interested, full of urban sophistication, but inside she was starting to feel sick, and wanted nothing more than to leave this woman's presence. "Adventure calls, and I wait for no one."

Koneko smiled still more widely. At last Korin was finished, and Sparrow lead the way to the door, making sure not to appear too hasty as she murmured goodbye.

Once back in her room, she remained silent as Korin helped her dress. The emerald-green robe fit her like a silk glove, and Korin produced a wide, dove-gray sash to tie around her waist. She left her hair down to let it dry.

Sparrow felt a desperate urge to get away from this house. To leave it, and everyone in it, behind permanently. Her hands shook as she gestured out the window, indicating the harbor in the distance to Korin, who nodded her head and guided her through the maze of hallways once more, until they were in the entryway where Sparrow and Reaver had left their shoes on the shoe-rack. She slipped the elegant sandals on and, to her surprise, Korin imitated her, collecting a pair of simple wooden sandals from a room off the main entryway and following her all the way out onto the street. It was only when Korin hailed a rickshaw that Sparrow understood why: without Reaver, she hadn't a hope of understanding the language.

As much as she envisioned it, she knew she wasn't going to run again. Sense told her she should, especially as Reaver appeared to not need her anymore; she found herself wondering if he would even notice her gone, then firmly told herself it would be too good to be true if he didn't. Of course he would notice her missing: he regarded her as one of his possessions. Even when he'd had Prince Rajeev's entire harem to distract him, he had come for her. She almost sighed despondently, barely paying attention to the magnificent city as they sped through it. She almost hated him for making her feel this way, even when there was no love or commitment between them. She had to be strong, and she could let Koneko get under her skin. She would make their preparation, and they would be leave this horrid place. It was the best she could do for now.

* * *

Jack was a man who rarely, if ever, turned to spirits. There had been times in his youth when he had indulged liberally, but as he'd gained in age and experience, he preferred to keep his mind as sharp as his sword. One drink with the men was the most he had ever indulged in at once.

But he was not with his men. The sailors under his command were probably well on their way back to Bloodstone, and he was here, serving under the Pirate King, consorting with the worst of his kind. And so, when offered a pint by the most agreeable among Reaver's crew, he'd accepted; first one, and then another, and even more followed that. Eventually, he'd sequestered himself away in Reaver's outer cabin with several jugs of rum, needing the privacy to drink himself into oblivion, but refusing to enter the Pirate's personal lair where his beloved Captain had succumbed to the his reputable charms.

Jack scowled into his tankard as images of Sparrow and Reaver danced their way through his imagination. He'd overheard much of what had gone on in that room, and the memory of their impassioned cries joined his imaginings, until he drained the tankard in an effort to shut them out.

He was a fool. The greatest fool who ever lived. Even more foolish for the way his heart turned over every time he thought of Sparrow. After he refilled his tankard from an enormous jug, he drained it again in hopes of shutting her out too. He didn't want to feel tenderness toward her. He wanted to feel angry; he wanted his pain to rile him up into a rage, but he found it impossible. He'd burned up whatever rage he had been born with in his youth, and right now, he just wasn't up to it.

He was still deep in his cups when the door leading out onto the deck swung open. The first thing to hit him was raw daylight, and it hurt his eyes. How could it already be morning? His vision was blurry, and he rubbed his tired eyes vigorously before he looked up to see who had entered.

It was Sparrow. Only it wasn't Sparrow. At least not as he had ever known her. She was dressed in peculiar, foreign clothing with her vivid hair flowing down her back. She looked so beautiful right now that it hurt to look at her, and so he turned away, drunkenly hoping she would overlook his presence, again, and go about whatever she had come there for.

Of course, it didn't work out the way he wanted.

"Jack?" she said. Through the haze of rum, he heard a note of surprise, and he looked at her again, concentrating as hard as he could.

"Yeah, it'sh me," he slurred, not even bothering with a smile of welcome.

"What are you doing in here – are you _drinking_?" she asked. Surprise was becoming shock.

"Yesh, I am," he said complacently, his brogue so thick Sparrow could barely understand him. "Wanted te be alone te do it. Care fer one yershelf?"

Sparrow frowned. "It's a bit early to be drinking. But from the look on your face, you've been at it all night."

He smiled vaguely, and saw Sparrow march over to him and whisk the tankard from his hands. "I think you've had enough," she said.

"Yeh're the bossh, Capt'n," he said formally, leaning back in his chair to watch her set the tankard on the table.

She was now moving about the room, searching through a collection of maps Reaver kept. There were so many, but she appeared to know exactly what she was looking for as she consulted a smaller map she had withdrawn from inside the wide sash at her waist.

"I take it that'sh the treashure map?" he asked, not really interested.

"Yes," Sparrow said, finally pulling out a large, rolled-up map and spreading it out on the table, using weights to hold it flat. "It leads deep into the continent, but doesn't show all the roads and pathways." Carefully, she began to study the larger map, frequently consulting the smaller one, and she repeatedly had to push her hair back from her face. Jack found himself distracted by the motion, his blurry eyes fixing on the waterfall of fire and gold mere inches from him. With one hand he reached out to touch the silky ringlets, and immediately Sparrow looked up at him in surprise.

"Yeh 'ave shuch pretty hair," he murmured, tangling his fingers in it. "Yeh should always wear it this way."

Sparrow smirked. "Maybe there should be a petition on the matter. Seems too many people have something to say about it." Then she frowned, and a flicker of something Jack didn't like surfaced in her eyes, but she quickly looked away before he could look deeper, turning back to the map. His fingers tightened in her hair.

"What'sh the matter?" he asked immediately, not bothering to mince words.

Sparrow shrugged delicately.

Jack frowned, standing unsteadily from his chair. As he stumbled Sparrow caught him, and he in turn wrapped his hands around her shoulders, keeping his hold gentle as he studied her face. "Shomething'sh not right. I can shee it."

Sparrow didn't look at him. "It's the rum seeing things for you. Perhaps you should go sleep it off."

She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was firm. "I know when yeh're lyin', Shparrow. We've known each other fer too long te keep secretsh."

At these words Sparrow's facade faltered, and for a moment, he saw the flicker in her eyes again. "Don't say things like that, Mister Daniels. We've worked together for too long to be confiding private matters to each other."

"Mishter Danielsh again, am I?" he said, his slurring voice taking a hard edge. He pulled her roughly to his chest, still keeping his hold impossibly gentle. "That'sh bullshit, Sparrow. I rishked me life for yeh, firsht coming after yeh, and then staying fer yeh. And I sure as shit didna do it jusht becaush yeh're me Capt'n." He'd never felt true anger toward Sparrow, but it suddenly seemed to be burning inside him, a low ember, steadily growing hotter. She stared up at him with those wide green eyes, shocked by his language and tone, no doubt, but he didn't care right now. She needed to hear it. "I wanna kill somethin' every time I think of that Pirate'sh hands on yeh," he growled. "But still, I cannot deshpise yeh as I should, and I hate 'im more than I knew I could. And still, I will stay by yer side until the very end. The leasht yeh could do ish care enough about me te tell me what that bashtard did te put that look in yer eyes."

Sparrow swallowed hard, then looked down at Jack's chest, as though afraid he would see too much if he looked into her eyes. "It is nothing. I mean it. I merely had an unpleasant encounter with one of Reaver's many mistresses."

Jack froze in place. He knew instinctively there was more to it than those few words, but he also knew well enough that Sparrow would not say more on the subject. But she didn't need to. She held herself rigidly in his arms, waiting for him to berate her, to tell her she should have known something like this was inevitable. And it was true. He also knew she didn't need him to tell her that. Instead, he released her shoulders, wrapping both arms around her and held her where she stood, a rare gesture of comfort and affection. "He'sh a knave, Sparrow. Yeh know thish better than anyone. He doesna deserve so much as the same air as yeh. And the women he conshorts with are cut from the same cloth."

Sparrow nodded slowly, glancing up at him. "I know. It just... took me off guard, that's all. I know better than to allow myself to be vulnerable to the Pirate. Soon enough he and I will leave this horrid place and get on with this treasure hunt. Maybe then you and I can go home."

Jack tensed. "Yeh mean the three of us will go on the hunt," he said firmly.

Sparrow shook her head. "We will be taking some of the crew, but you need to remain here."

Sparrow winced as his arms tightened painfully around her, but Jack barely noticed. His eyes were livid. "Not a chance."

"I'm serious... Jack," she whispered.

"Sho am I," he said fiercely. "Yeh're not goin' off alone with 'im. Not after what he's done te yeh."

Sparrow frowned. "He hasn't –"

"Don' lie te me, Sparrow," Jack growled. "He hurt yeh. Forced himself on yeh. Deny it, dare te lie te me."

Sparrow's breath caught in her throat and her face went pale. Their eyes locked and held. Sparrow wanted to deny it, to ease his fear and anger, but –

"That's what I thought," Jack said. "The lying bastard. That monster doesna deserve te live."

"Jack –"

"An' then yeh –" Jack burst suddenly, as though she had not spoken, his voice a deadly whisper. "Yeh let 'im touch yeh again! Yeh play along with 'is games, share 'is bed, are willin' te go off with 'im alone! Why, Sparrow? Tell me the truth."

Sparrow could not answer. Why, indeed. Jack's questions made sense, more sense than her own reasoning. Reaver was a monster. And yet she craved the touch of said monster. Why? Because when he touched her, she felt like Sparrow. She felt like a woman. She felt needed. Loved, even if it wasn't real love.

Then, out of nowhere, she recalled Reaver asking her a similar question so long ago, when he had been so determined to have her: why she resisted him, why she denied herself something she wanted.

Because she wanted more. She needed more than meaningless love. And yet now... she was accepting less. She was changing; the more the daring, wild, younger Sparrow she had been surfaced, the easier it was to give into her desires and take what she wanted. Reaver had told her he wanted her to be free, to be Sparrow. But at what price? She was giving more and more of herself to the Thief, parts of herself she couldn't get back; yet she could never give him her heart, that would always be safe, as he did not have one to give to her. But she could experience, if only for a short time, what every woman through the ages had ever known, and what she could never truly have as her own.

Sparrow felt her knees tremble.

"It's complicated," she whispered. "I'm not even sure who I am anymore."

Jack scowled. "Yeh're Sparrow, that's who yeh are. Yeh're the Mayor of Bloodstone, a legend, a savior, a Hero. Yer all these things. Much more than a Pirate's plaything. How complicated is that?"

"More complicated than words can describe," she murmured, her eyes drifting away from his again. She could feel the burning of shame, but at the same time, her pride came to her defense. She was Sparrow... didn't that give her the right to decide who Sparrow was? "I'm much more than all that, Jack. I'm a woman too. Even if I'm a Hero, I'm still human."

"Don' think I don' know yer a woman, Sparrow," Jack said, almost fiercely. "I've known it longer than yeh have. But yeh don' need the Pirate te feel like a woman. Yeh don' need his games te feel human."

"What do you want me to do?" Sparrow said, her voice hoarse. "I have to play his games. When you came aboard this ship, it changed everything. Before, he had nothing to use against me. I could fight him, and I did! And if I couldn't fight, I could resist. Now you're here, and if he even thinks I'm going to fight him, he uses that to his advantage."

"So this is me own fault?"

"No!" Sparrow denied. "None of this is your fault, Jack. This is between myself and Reaver. He's dangerous; I can't let him use you as a pawn, just how I can't use you as a shield. You can't protect me from him. That's why I have to go with him alone."

"But –"

"This hunt is going to be incredibly dangerous," Sparrow said fervently, willing him to understand. "More dangerous than anything you or I have ever faced. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you."

And like that, his anger evaporated. How he hated that she could do that to him. But even as he struggled to revive his anger, he found his grip on her loosening, and one hand came up to lift her chin, so she was forced to meet his gaze. "I'm an able warrior, Sparrow. I can protect yer back as good as anyone. Maybe better, if only because yeh mean more te me than me own life."

He saw her swallow hard again. "Don't say things like that. You're my most loyal, most valued crewman. I would even call you friend. I trust you with my life. You're irreplaceable to me. Don't ruin things by trying to make us more than what we are."

"How can yeh know we're not more?" he asked seriously, staring into her bottomless eyes. "Yeh've never allowed ush te be more. Yeh've alwaysh kept that wall around yeh, never lettin' anyone in. I don' like that yeh've let it drop because of that bashtard Pirate King, but I cannot let jealousy force me te remain silent either. I love yeh more'n me own life, Sparrow. Fer six years, I've been here, waitin' fer yeh te be ready te let me in. Don' think I don' know the loneliness yeh hide in yer heart. I've seen it. I want te be the one te love yeh. I want te be the one to remind yeh yer a woman, te make sure yeh know it every single day an' night. Don' shut me out, Sparrow."

Sparrow stared up into his eyes, no longer blurry, but fixed on her, and she hardly dared to breathe. Jack merely waited, content to hold her as she formed her answer. Then, inexplicably, slowly, she pulled herself away from him. He watched her back away; he could feel his heart slowly being ripped out, and he too held his breath. Only her eyes, still locked with his, held him down to sanity.

"I – I'm not – I can't think about this, Jack, not right now," she whispered.

His heart dropped. It even seemed to disappear entirely. He could no longer feel it beating inside him. "Are yeh in love with the Pirate?" he asked flatly.

"Of course I'm not," Sparrow denied. "This – it's just a bit much to take in right now, when I'm already... I can't rightly tell you how I feel, and I'm not ready to accept your love. I'm sorry, Jack."

Jack stared at her. Then, deliberately, he walked after her. Sparrow took a step back, but stopped when she bumped into the wall of the cabin. Jack took her chin between his thumb and forefinger again, lifting her face to his. "I know yeh're not, Sparrow. Maybe not right now, but I needed te tell yeh, and I know one day soon, yeh'll be ready. Yeh need te know not all men are Reaver, and when the time comes, I'll still be loving yeh."

Gently, he brushed a kiss over her lips, then, with all the pride he had left to him, turned on his heel and left the outer cabin, intent on taking Sparrow's original advice and seeking his cot.


	22. To Win the Battle

Disclaimer: Still don't own Reaver. I mean Fable.

Author's Note: Uncommonly used phrase coming up. I'm only using it cause it sounds good, and it's french, and Reaver tends to use french phrases when he speaks. So here it is. **Coup d'œil** (or **coup d'oeil**) is a term taken from, that more or less corresponds to the words glimpse or glance in English. The literal meaning is "stroke of [the] eye".

And sorry it's taken me so long to update. Sometimes you just need a break, you know? So I went to work on another story. But I missed this one so much recently that I practically forced myself to write out this chapter. I'm not sure how it turned out exactly, but I can't stand to work on it any longer. For good or ill, this is it. Time to move on. I think I like it, but it's your guys' and gals' opinions that I'm really interested in. As always, hope you enjoy. And I'm almost done with the next chapter, and the chapter after that. Just need to finish them up and edit them.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

To Win the Battle

* * *

_Tap_. _Tap_. _Tap_.

The Pirate rolled over in his bed, the sheets he had slept in twisted about his legs. Reluctantly, and with some difficulty, he pried his eyes open to take in the late morning sunshine. For one groggy moment he was uncertain of what had awakened him, and why he was in his bed alone. But then the tapping sounded outside his door again, and the events of the previous day came flooding back to him. That was right. Sparrow had sought out her own bed to sleep in. And so he had slept by himself, but for his brief, late night visit from Karasu. Frustrated with his despondence, he pushed himself into a sitting position just as the tapping at his door sounded again, this time more insistently.

Was it Sparrow, come to reconcile? At that thought, he lurched from his mattress, briefly forgetting the sheets tangled in his legs, and wobbled precariously for a moment, arms waving wildly like two windmills as he lost his footing and crashed to the floor. Flat on his back, the Pirate cursed loudly and in several languages.

"Reaver? Are you all right?" called a soft, feminine voice.

Reaver almost groaned aloud. It was not Sparrow, but Koneko. He pushed down the flare of resentment and was wearing his most charming smile by the time he had extracted himself from his sheets and slid open the door.

"Beautiful Princess, what brings you to my chambers so early?" he said in his most beguiling voice, knowing full well it was almost midday.

"I've been lonely without you," she said, her blood-red lips pursed into a charming pout. "I had thought you would join me last night. You have been gone for so long."

"I must apologize; it has been such a long journey and I required rest." Then, with a charming coup d'oeil, he said, "I knew I would have no chance to rest were I to visit your chamber."

Her fair skin flushed lightly as he expected, but her eyes seemed to flick over his shoulder, as though trying to see into the room behind him.

"Are you looking for someone, Princess?" he asked mildly.

"I'll admit, I did wonder if you didn't come because you were... otherwise occupied."

Reaver smiled and graciously swung back into the room, giving her full view of the bed. "As you can see, I am quite alone. A once in a lifetime event, that."

Her eyes fell to him, a dark heat burning in their depths. "If you are restored, perhaps I could join you now," she suggested, her voice remaining sweet and soft even as it carried the edge of desire.

"It might be better if I could join you after I make myself more presentable," the Pirate said evasively.

Regally, if disappointed, Koneko bowed her head in assent. When she was gone, the Pirate sank back against the door, looking out over his chamber with unseeing eyes as he engaged in a brief conflict with himself. It shouldn't have mattered if he had been presentable or not, he never turned a woman down who blatantly offered to come to his bed. She had been right there, willing to take him away from this muddled reality if only for a few hours, and he had sent her away without a thought or hesitation.

He was almost urgent as he rushed through the task of bathing and grooming himself. He shaved carefully and styled his hair, making certain he was the epitome of perfection before he stopped at the dining hall to break his fast. It didn't take long after that for Koneko to find him again, and together they walked arm-in-arm outside to enjoy the solitude of the serenity garden. Reaver allowed her to guide him along the bank of a man-made stream that flowed through and around the manor house. For a time she seemed content to merely to enjoy his silent company. She watched the flowing water vaguely as though lost in thoughts of her own, until finally, several minutes later, she glanced up at him with her dark smile.

"You have been away for a long time," she said suddenly. "There is something different about you, Pirate."

Reaver raised an elegant brow and tilted the corner of his lip. "Really? And what might that be?" He sounded amused and mildly curious, as though she were playing some jest and he was graciously going along with it; underneath, however, the words had set his nerves on edge.

"The last time I saw you, you would have spent all night in my chamber, and by now you would have lured me off into some secluded part of the garden to repeat the performance."

Reaver stopped walking and Koneko came to a halt beside him. She stared up at him with dark eyes, eyes that offered nothing of her thoughts but looked far too deeply into his. "Perhaps I have not been myself," he conceded, but barely. He took her hand gently in his. "Do not think it is because of you, my sweet. You have only grown more beautiful with the passing of time."

"Not because of me..." she said thoughtfully. "Then because of someone else, perhaps? You did not come here alone, after all."

"Ah – yes," Reaver said. "You met lady Sparrow on the same day we arrived, I believe?"

"Who is she?" Koneko asked abruptly, her eyes narrowing. "Is she the lover you have replaced me with?"

"Don't be foolish, kitten," he said, his voice a soft caress. "Though the King of pirates knows many lovers, you are my favorite and irreplaceable."

"Hmph," she huffed, looking insulted. "Pretty words, though empty of meaning. If you truly felt so, you would not need those 'many lovers'."

"You're so beautiful when you're angry, kitten, but tell me, what can I do to earn your smile?"

Koneko looked thoughtfully across the water, the paused before looking into his eyes, a small, mischievous smile curving her lips. "Kiss me, Pirate, and all will be forgiven."

Reaver swallowed and his mouth went dry. His fingers almost shook as they came up to cup her delicate face. She was an exotic beauty; her dark eyes smoldered, appearing large and fathomless against her ivory skin, and her soft lips, painted blood red, were parted ever so slightly in invitation. Gently, he brushed back her long dark hair, absorbing her beauty into his pores, and yet he felt no draw, no allure. His lips didn't ache to feel hers beneath them; when she stepped close enough that their bodies brushed against each other, there was no magnetic pull between them, no fire that demanded he get close enough to burn alive inside her body. There was only the sheer beauty of her, and it was not enough to make him want her again.

With an internal shake of his head, he took himself firmly in hand and demanded that he proceed. Tenderly, he pressed his lips to hers and allowed nature to take its course. Soon he could taste her tongue as it caressed his, and he did what came to him naturally, kissing her until she was breathless and limp in his arms. Only when he heard a faint moan from her throat did he break away, holding her impersonally against his chest. He had done it. It was nothing like he was accustomed to, but all the same he had not been held back. He could do this if he just kept himself in line. One woman was not going to change his life, and Koneko would help him make sure of that.

* * *

Sparrow returned to the Shi house before the sun was high. She had accomplished all she had set out to do, and found herself hovering anxiously in the entrance hall, dreading the moment she would have to come face to face with Reaver again. The idea made her head light, her heart pound, and her stomach squirm all at the same time. What could she even say to him? Was there anything he could say to her? She almost cringed at the thought of another argument... of hearing more of his callous words. It seemed every time the storm settled another one came hurtling around the corner.

Without her conscious order, her feet began to wander again. She had no desire to shut herself away in her room for the rest of the afternoon and wallow. But before she could even consider where she might go, a voice behind her said, "Sparrow?"

Quickly she turned around. Karasu had poked his head out through an open doorway she had passed without even noticing. She offered him a small smile. "Prince Karasu. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"Not at all. But you seem far away. Was your journey into my city successful?"

"It was," Sparrow replied. "I arranged for supplies for the rest of our journey. You'll be pleased to hear we'll be on our way shortly. Just a few more days' preparation. We do not wish to overstay our welcome."

He stood there observing her for a minute, then a small smile graced his lips. "Please, come join me. I was just about to have a cup of tea."

Sparrow graciously obliged, preceding Karasu into his study when he stepped aside for her. The handsome desk in the center of the room was littered with several papers and open books. Karasu had apparently been working on something, but a glance at the peculiar symbols told Sparrow nothing. On the long seat along the window, where she had first laid eyes on him, a stately tea service gleamed in the sunlight, steam curling from the pot. When she had made herself comfortable, he joined her and served them, his movements graceful and measured like a dancer or an artist. She couldn't help but notice the way his pale fingers moved so elegantly even as he did something as simple at pour tea.

"You have beautiful hands," she said thoughtlessly as he brought his cup to his lips. He raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed contritely, offering an apologetic smile. "I mean their movements. Are you a musician? Or an artist by chance?"

He smiled and took a drink of his tea before answering. "I practice many skills. Music is among them."

"I see," Sparrow replied.

"And what of you?" he asked, his voice low as ever, but with a hint of interest. "I know you are a warrior, but is there more than that?"

"Well, I have always been a warrior first," she said. "I am a leader when called upon, as well as a merchant. I have my own ships, and a town that I take responsibility for."

"And yet you are very far away from home," Karasu said, his voice almost musical as he made his shrewd assessments. "How is it that you come to be here, when you have people in need of you?"

Sparrow watched him over the rim of her tea cup, wondering just how much she could confess to Prince Karasu. His voice was perfectly neutral, filled with a light interest and sophistication, and his pale eyes gave nothing of his thoughts away. He merely seemed to be waiting for her answer as though it were of importance that he hear it.

"I have not been out at sea in a long time," she finally said, setting the little cup down on its silver dish. "I have men I can trust implicitly to take care of things back home until I return."

"A husband, perhaps?" he asked, and this time there was the hint of a smile about his lips.

"Oh no, nothing like that," Sparrow said, now looking out the window over the garden. "I haven't had the time or the inclination. After all this time the people I watch over have become my family."

"And yet you leave them alone while you sail the world with a pirate," he said, and she heart the chink of the tea cup on its dish. "And you are not anxious to return home?"

"I –" Sparrow started to answer, but she was distracted, looking out into the garden with sharp eyes. She could see two people walking in their general direction, following the path of a shallow stream. Even from here, she recognized them, and though she knew it would be best to do so, she could not look away. "I am. I feel as though I have been away from home for too long." She could now see that the pair were linked together, her small hand tucked safely in the crook of his arm; they stopped on the riverside and stared into each others' eyes. The smaller one looked across the river, seeming to stare directly at her, then looked back into the eyes of the Pirate.

Karasu, if he noticed her lapse in attention, made no comment about it. "And what stops you?"

Sparrow did not immediately answer. The two were very close together, and the taller of the two figures now bent down and kissed the smaller, his hand laced in her long dark hair.

And Sparrow's world seemed to fall away.

For a moment she felt as though she couldn't breathe, and as she watched, the pair became even more intertwined, their kiss one of the deepest passion and longing. After a long minute she forced her eyes to tear themselves away, and she looked down at the tea cup in her trembling fingers. "I –" she started, unsure what she meant to say. "I – I don't –" What had they even been talking about? Her fingers began to tremble harder, until the herbal tea was splashing inside the cup.

Sparrow tried to set it down, but before she could, a pair of pale, steady hands reached out and wrapped themselves around hers, stilling their shaking. With wide eyes she looked up at the Prince sitting across from her. "I – I don't remember what we were talking about," she said quietly.

"Never mind," Karasu said with a gentle smile. He took the cup from her, but returned his hands to hers, wrapping his smooth fingers around her cold ones. "Let us talk of something else. You're a leader and a warrior. You must be a student of war, are you not?"

She took a deep breath, staring into his cold eyes where it was safe, and forcing her mind to concentrate wholly on the question, because to do otherwise would lead her to become lost in a sea of her own hurt. "I enjoy swordsmanship and learning any type of weapon, and I often have to plan strategies and carry out battles. I'm a bit of a historian in that area; I enjoy studying wars from long ago."

"Very intriguing," he murmured, his eyes locked with hers as he held her to him, though they were only linked by their hands. "Would I be safe in assuming you have an interest in historical artifacts? Weapons with historical merit?"

Sparrow nodded.

"Then perhaps you would care to join me in my afternoon sparring match," he said. "I have something in my _dojo_ that I think you will very much enjoy."

Sparrow allowed him to help her to her feet without protest, and he retained possession of her hand as he lead her through the tangled web of his home. To her surprise, she found herself being led outside and down a mossy path to what appeared to be an enormous storehouse. Two men stood guard over it, and at their approach they slid open the huge wooden doors, bringing into plain view what looked like half an armory. The wide floor was open and free of clutter, but all manner of weaponry hung on racks around the perimeter; swords and axes and various instruments of death. Sparrow followed her host inside, hardly watching where she stepped as she stared around her, taking in the large cache of weapons.

"I'm impressed," she said frankly.

"It is my _dojo_," he said, leading the way to an array of locked cabinets that lined one back wall. Three stood apart from the other, each of them side-by-side and higher off the floor than any of the others. "This is where myself and my men train for battle. It is also the armory, though most of the weapons are stored below. But this is what I why I brought you here. I believe you will have a true appreciation for it."

Sparrow honed her focus back on Karasu as he unlocked the case and flung open the ebony-wood doors. Inside was a single sword encased in an ivory sheath inlaid with gold. The Prince lifted it almost reverently from its casing and turned to face her, offering her the hilt. Sparrow took it and pulled, and the sword slid smoothly from its scabbard. At her touch the sword felt unnaturally cold, as though it had been stored in ice. She held it up to the light, silently admiring the excellent craftsmanship; the blade was straight and double-edged with a tip designed to pierce; the metal was so thin and flexible that it wavered even as she held it. She flicked it with her finger and the blade warbled musically as it flexed back and forth. When it came to a rest she sliced it through the air, listening to the faint whistle as the air passed around it.

"Do you hear the blade's song?" The voice came from almost directly behind her, but Sparrow caught herself before she flinched, pretending to admire the weapon further as she turned to face him. "It sings of the blood it has spilled," he continued when she did not answer, his voice like a loving caress, "of the lives it has taken."

Sparrow looked up at him, but his pale eyes, now colder than the grave, were fixed on the weapon in her hands.

"The blade is thirty-three inches long," Karasu went on, "and one-tenth of an inch thick, flexible, yet strong enough to parry and even break through steel. It is made of a metal yet unknown, though it has been in my family for more than a thousand years."

"What do the symbols say?" she asked, returning the sword to him.

"_Shi no Masuta_," he said. "In your tongue, it means 'Master of Death'."

Sparrow felt a cold, thrilling shiver wind its way through her. "How does one master death?"

A brief smile lingered about his lips, its warmth at odds with his frigid gaze. "It is the legacy of the Shi clan," he said as he ran two fingers down the length of the blade, caressing the etched symbols. "Each man to lead our family has inherited and killed with this sword." His eyes left the blade to look into hers. "But before we are to wield it, each must master the art of death. It is the only way the sword will acknowledge the new bearer as its true master."

Sparrow could feel her heart beating frantically in her throat but couldn't look away from those cold eyes. "And how is this done?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Those cold, empty eyes held hers for a moment, and then he smiled again. "Practice."

A chill spiraled down Sparrow's backbone at that one word and she forced herself to look away, her gaze roaming sightlessly around the dojo. How many men might have been killed, or even executed, right here in this very room? This Prince, however beautiful to look upon, however refined and elegant, was every bit as cold-blooded as Reaver. It was little wonder how they came to be 'friends'. But even so, that didn't deter her from the Pirate... it didn't stop her heart from fluttering wildly when he was close... or from quivering in pain when he was cruel to her. What was wrong with her that she was so enthralled by such men, when she could clearly see the depravity beneath the beauty? Yet when a man as good and noble as Jack offered her his heart... she couldn't accept it.

"Would you like to test it?"

Sparrow was abruptly brought back from her thoughts. "Pardon?"

"The sword you're admiring?" Karasu clarified, gesturing toward the glint of steel she'd been staring fixedly at. "Please, feel free to use anything in my _dojo_," he added. "We have the best weapons, some of them centuries old."

Sparrow walked over to the weapon rack and removed the sword, more to distract herself from her thoughts than out of interest. This blade was different. It was long and made with a slight curve, and when she jostled the hilt the blade split in two down the length, becoming a pair of swords. She sliced them through the air in an arc over her head and brought them down again before her.

"A friendly match, perhaps?" said the Prince, moving to the center of the open floor. Sparrow looked at the sword he carried, at his fingers wrapped gracefully around the ivory hilt, then at his cold eyes, measuring them against the warm caress of his voice. He merely smiled, awaiting her answer.

"All right," she said, less confidently than she would have liked, and moved into position. "I'm a bit out of practice with a sword, but it would be good to get in some training before we depart."

Karasu smiled but said nothing as he took his stance, raising his sword up into the air and balancing with one arm before him. Sparrow took his cue, holding out one sword horizontally before her and bringing the other one up behind her.

"Begin."

* * *

The first clash of steel sliced cleanly through the tranquility of the gardens, leaving a stricken silence in its wake. After a heartbeat, three more followed in rapid succession. The Pirate brought his head up curiously, listening for more, the sound of impending violence sending an age-old excitement through him. Quietly, he listened to the next cacophony of clashing, and he could almost visualize the escalating battle.

"It sounds like my brother is up to his sadistic games again," Koneko drawled. She rose from his lap and cast a sultry look over her bare shoulder. "Care to come join him? I know how you enjoy watching my brother work."

Reaver was quick to his feet, and offered her his arm.

They took the most direct route, not speaking or looking at each other, almost eager in their journey to the wide doors of the dojo. In minutes they were standing at the entrance, but at the sight before them, they froze, staring like statues. The Pirate felt an unpleasant sinking sensation as he saw with his own eyes who was putting up such a fight with Karasu.

Sparrow had not noticed their arrival, as her complete concentration was focused solely on the battle. She looked lovely to him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparked with life and fire. But it was for the Prince. Somehow the young bastard was drawing her in closer; he could see it in the cold triumph in his eyes. A deep intensity seemed to linger just beneath the surface if his exotic face. On the outside, he looked calm, vaguely pleased, but his eyes almost seemed to gleam, and not with blood-lust.

Sparks began to flash as the blades came together even harder, and Sparrow held her own, though the mortal possessed an almost inhuman dexterity. Karasu was another ruthless, cut-throat opportunist like himself, and his very life was dedicated to the sword, to dealing in death. He was almost in question of who would win, and as though to affirm this thought, an earsplitting clash rent the air as one of Sparrow's swords broke under the assault of Karasu's blade.

Reaver's fingers jerked unconsciously to his gun, but he stopped himself, hovering anxiously on the edge of drawing his weapon, ready to deflect the oncoming blade should it become necessary. He did not question this insane behavior just yet; he would not think beyond the fierce battle he was witnessing.

On and on it went, the two opponents seeming to spin and twirl around one another in some macabre dance, flowing like water as light gleamed off the flashing steel... and then, in a flash, it was over. The Prince's weapon flew from his fingers, and Sparrow was pressed close to him, her blade to his throat.

The Pirate let out his breath, surprised to realize he'd been holding it in. He did not make a sound as the blade clattered across the floor, and he watched Sparrow slowly release her stance and withdraw her sword. She looked pleased and slightly dazed, flushed from the rush and the exertion, but she was staring at Karasu, not him, and he found himself caressing the gun at his hip almost longingly. He knew a vicious urge to shoot the hand that came up to caress Sparrow's red-and-gold hair, that cupped her face almost as reverently at it had caressed the sword of death, but before he could give in to the desire, the hand was gone, and the Prince was retrieving his weapon.

And finally, Sparrow saw him. The Pirate froze when their eyes locked, and again his breath stopped in his throat. He could not read her face; she seemed almost to be closed off from him, and he could hardly assimilate it. He did not look away, as though waiting for her to falter, but she did not, and she looked away first, answering the Prince when he called her name. The Prince offered her an arm, and she took it gratefully, and then the Prince was leading her out through the doors, back up the garden path and out of sight. Speechless for the first time in his life, the Thief could do nothing but watch helplessly, only moving when Koneko spoke; he did not catch the words, but he allowed her to lead him away.


	23. When the War Is Lost

Disclaimer: Still don't own Reaver. *tear*

Author's Note: Okay, this is a chapter I have just been _dying_ to get to. I put hard work into it; half the reason I left it off until after I had taken a break was because I wanted it to be good, and I'm as excited for you to read it as I was to write it. (prays to Avo) please, please let this chapter be everything I hope it to be.

Warning: Reaver kind of has a bit of a "crisis", and at the end there is some adult content. As usual, read as far as you are comfortable, then skip to the end. _But_ if you do skip, be sure to read the very last paragraph. Its only a few lines, but important lines.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

When the War Is Lost

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Sparrow returned to her chamber. She had just enough time to bathe and dress before dinner. Again, Korin assisted her, dressing her in a clingy black, silk robe this time that left her shoulders and upper back bare, tied shut at her waist with a sash of pure gold, and completed by painting her lips blood-red and outlining her emerald-green eyes in black. Korin had swept her hair high off her neck, pulling it up into an intricate knot that left several curling scarlet-and-gold locks trailing down her back.

Sparrow was privately relieved to have her help; try as she might, she could barely see her reflection in the mirror or focus on what her hands were doing. Her fingers trembled when she tried to apply her own cosmetics, and Korin took over the job entirely while Sparrow simply held herself still. It wasn't too much of a challenge. Remembering the dark flames in Reaver's eyes was more than enough to freeze her in place.

Sparrow took several deep, steadying breaths as the memories washed over her again and again. The sparring match with Karasu had been... exhilarating, to say the least. He had been surprisingly skilled for a mortal, forcing her on the defensive more than once, yet she had never felt any aggression on his part, as a warrior his age might have exhibited; he was a cold and calculating opponent, and even now she could almost see the unnatural control in his movements, the peculiar sheen in those empty, merciless eyes. She had never fought an adversary quite like him. For just a second she had wondered if she would defeat him, but when one of her swords had broken, she realized that _he_ had already given her the answer to defeating him. If his sword could destroy steel, her only recourse was to neutralize the weapon. For the first time in many years she was forced to call on the true Strength of a her Hero blood; without it she doubted she would have succeeded in disarming him. To a mortal fighting him, he would seem a demon, not unlike Reaver; she herself had even been regarded in such a light.

They were all demons in their own right, but she now knew, Reaver was the darkest among them. She had known there was an evil in him, Shadows that always lingered just beneath the surface; today she realized she had never seen the full scope of it. When she glanced up and saw him standing there, she'd seen a creature both dark and full of malevolence staring back at her, something alive and twisted, seeking her; she'd almost felt the evil emanating from it as it brushed against her soul. She had not been afraid, though it clearly desired that she be, and then it was gone, slipping back beneath the surface, and she was left facing the Pirate. He had been watching her sparring match with the Prince, his lover at his arm, and Avo help her, she had not been able to look away from him. Despite all the disdain she felt for him, the pain she felt because of him, she had felt trapped by his very presence. She had simply stood there, her heart thrumming as she kept her face purposefully blank; Koneko was watching both of them with a peculiar expression on her exquisite face, and Sparrow did not need either of them seeing the turmoil inside her.

She had been grateful when Karasu had escorted her away from the dojo and back to the main house, grateful enough that she did not deny him when he asked to spend the afternoon with her. He was an impeccable host, guiding her through his home and telling her more of its history, and showing her rooms and displays he thought she might find pleasing. More swords and ancestral armor were on display in many rooms, and Sparrow had been fascinated by a set of star-shaped, steel discs with razor-sharp edges that were made to be thrown at one's opponent. As the day had worn on, it had been a simple relief to not think about anything, not Reaver, not his mistress, not even Jack; she simply enjoyed what she had been doing. But now that she was alone enough to think, she had to face it all again, and by the time she was standing outside the formal dining hall, Sparrow was hesitating, uncertain she wanted to enter the room.

She glanced in from the shadow of the doorway. There were more people present than she'd anticipated. Karasu, Reaver, and Koneko were immediately visible, seated at the high table. It was a high table unlike she had ever seen; it was low to the ground, and its occupants knelt or sat on soft, velvet cushions of pristine white velvet trimmed with gold silk. Karasu and Koneko were seated on either end, with Reaver on Koneko's right. Her heart began to pound again at the sight of him; he appeared to be in a dark mood as his eyes flitted about the hall, as though looking for something. The seat between him and Karasu was empty and clearly meant for her. Bellow them, three long tables were packed with servants and guests, and a large floor for dancing occupied the right half of the room, separated by a thin wall with an enormous archway.

Sparrow took a deep breath and stood straighter, then passed through the doorway. All eyes immediately turned to her, but she paid them no attention. She could feel the Pirate's gaze burning into her; for a brief second, she almost faltered. She did _not_ want to sit next to Reaver for any length of time, but another force would not let her cower away from him either. She could not allow that damned Pirate to intimidate her, so she held her head high and walked the length of the room.

Karasu caught her eye as she came closer; he wore flowing robes of soft ivory, and his coy smile was ever in place as he watched her approach. She returned the smile, feeling bolstered; Karasu might be every bit as bad as the Pirate, but at this moment, she was pleased with the idea of an ally. As she ascended the dais, he stood, offering her a steadying hand before she knelt down. Reaver might as well have not been present for all the notice she paid him, and when Karasu had resumed his seat beside her, she had eyes only for him. She had made it across the hall, now she just had to make it through the dinner.

"You look beautiful," Karasu murmured in a low voice. "I would hazard a guess that Keiko agrees with you."

"I am used to being close to the sea," Sparrow said quietly, but she was partially distracted. She was looking worriedly down at the food that had been placed before her. Instead of utensils, two long, slender wooden sticks had been placed beside her plate. Sparrow picked them up hesitantly, holding one in each hand, unsure what she was supposed to do with them. They were beautiful, stained a deep violet and lacquered, but appeared ill-designed for eating. Uncertainly, she positioned the one in her right hand and stabbed it sharply through a piece of glazed meet, skewering it off her plate; to her left she heard both a low, choked-chuckle and a feminine scoff. Blushing furiously, she glanced timidly up at Karasu, who was smiling at her in his vaguely amused way.

"You are new to _hashai_," he said gently. Sparrow blushed deeper, and Karasu extended a hand. "Let me show you."

Sparrow gave him the _hashai_, but was surprised when he took her hand in his again. Immediately, she felt the Thief's full regard, his eyes almost burning into her, watching the offending hands that held hers. Her fingers briefly shook, and Karasu stroked them soothingly.

"Relax your hands," he murmured. The Prince showed her how to hold the _hashai_ properly, positioning her fingers around the wooden sticks just so, and showing her how to move them like pincers. It wasn't easy at first, but his hold was remarkably gentle and patient, and when she finally got the hang of it, he gave her another smile and two of his fingers trailed up her arm from her wrist. The motion was subtle, almost innocent, but the sheen in his eyes sent a chill up her spine. She returned his smile quickly and looked away, suddenly consumed with the idea that she was caught between two monsters. Her heart began to pound, but remarkably, it was in excitement. Imperceptibly, she gave herself a little shake. The damn Pirate had her so wound up she was overreacting. Karasu might be a monster himself, but she did not have to fear him the way she did Reaver; Karasu could not hurt her as the Pirate had. She focused on her dinner, which worked well as it took most of her concentration just to use the sticks correctly, but Karasu seemed to demand her attention, which at least distracted her from Reaver; he spoke to her in his soft tone, making their conversation somehow more private and intimate than its actual topic.

"You said to me earlier you'd finished your preparations for the rest of your journey," he said conversationally. "Did you find everything you require?"

"I did," Sparrow replied, trying to keep her eyes on her plate. "I arranged for supplies and navigated our course. We should be ready to leave the day after tomorrow."

Karasu was silent for a moment as he chose his next morsel. "Where would you be traveling to in such a hurry? I was not aware of anything in my province of urgent fascination."

"Oh, we'll be going here and there," Sparrow said casually, remaining noncommittal. "I like to travel, and explore. Reaver has been to Samarkand before, but I doubt even he has seen all of it."

"Have you traveled much in your life?"

"Yes, but only across Albion," she conceded. "This is my first time to Samarkand. What of you?"

"I'm afraid I have not yet had the luxury of seeking lands beyond Keiko," he admitted, almost ruefully. "At the age of twelve I assumed my place as head of the family, and my duties have kept me here ever since, but I have read of foreign lands, and hope to leave the burden of my life here to seek those places beyond my homeland."

Sparrow smiled, glancing at the young Prince. He was sitting with his fingertips pressed together, watching her over the people he spoke of, his eyes empty like a void but focused like a hawk. "I understand. I too have been immersed in duty and responsibility for so long I almost forgot the feeling of setting foot in new lands. I never realized how much I missed it until reaching Samarkand."

"You speak like someone who knows the adventure's life," he said calmly, and he casually brushed the back of her hand as he passed her a goblet of wine.

"Indeed, I do. In my youth, I was rarely tied down to one place. I traversed all of Albion making a name for myself."

"But you cannot be that old yet," he said observantly, his sharp eyes looking over her face. "How young could you have been?"

Sparrow smiled to cover her lapse. "Not that much younger, I suppose. Time has a way off slipping through your fingers, don't you agree? Perhaps it just feels like a long time."

"And yet it was time well lived."

"Yes," she said, sipping the wine. It was light and sweet, and she drank deeply, finding herself pleasantly warmed by the spirits.

"To have such freedom," Karasu murmured wistfully, his eyes appraising her. "I have only dreamed of such a life."

"It's not as romantic as it sounds," she conceded with a sheepish grin. "It's about sleeping on the road, or the safest, Avo-forsaken, and possibly flea-bitten place you can find; it's about living by the sword, and eventually dying by it."

"And you are a true master of the sword," he said graciously. "I am honored to have been challenged by your skills. You have clearly endured much to acquire them."

Sparrow flashed him a breathtaking smile, her eyes sparkling at his acknowledgment. "Well, I wouldn't presume to be a master. You remind me that there is always more to learn. You are a worthy opponent yourself."

"Should you stay longer, you will learn there is much more I can teach you." Sparrow shivered at the low timbre of his voice; he was watching her intently, and she smiled as though he was teasing her.

"Perhaps someday I will return and accept your instruction." Beside her, she could all but see Reaver's eyes burning into her. Against her good judgement she glanced in his direction, and the second their eyes locked she felt a shiver pass up her spine. He looked every bit as dangerous as he was; the Shadows in his eyes were swirling malevolently, warning her off, and yet the combination of it all sent a flare of defiance through her. Did he think to consort with whomever he liked while she remained a recluse? As though to mock her very thoughts, he drew Koneko's hand into his lap, drawing her closer, before lifting his hand to her bare shoulders, touching them gently, the gesture both gentle and intimate. His nerve both amazed and infuriated her. Turning deliberately away from him, she returned her attention back to the Prince, who sat watching her so calmly, his icy eyes alight with something she couldn't put a name to. On a sudden urge, she leaned ever so slightly closer to him, holding his gaze. She almost felt foolish, but he was drawn in, leaning to her, his attention only for her. "Perhaps you could instruct me on something else, if you possess the skill."

"Anything," he murmured. The intelligence in his eyes told her to be cautious, but right now, Sparrow did not want to exercise caution.

"Do you dance as well as you fight?"

The unnerving sheen in his eyes intensified, and Sparrow felt a moment of misgiving, but he had already taken her hand in his smooth, cold one. His grip was surprisingly strong as he helped her to her feet. "We shall see, lovely Sparrow."

* * *

Reaver sat cross-legged at the high table, only half-listening to Koneko speaking to him as he sipped wine from his chalice; his dark eyes flitted around the hall, but there was still no sign of her. He told himself over and over that it didn't matter if she came, but as time and again the cup was refilled, his temper darkened. Was she perhaps taking steps to leave this place without him? He told himself it did not concern him, but the very image of her sailing away without a backward glance left him feeling empty inside. She was _his_, she would not leave him; she knew he would not let her go.

He barely picked at his food. His eyes were scanning the hall for the thousandth time when finally every voice in the hall quieted, heralding the arrival of a new guest. He lifted his gaze to the entrance, and as he watched Sparrow walk exultantly into the dining hall, his breath stopped in his chest. She was beautiful. The sheer pride in her every step as she glided among the foreign onlookers made him want nothing more than to drag her off to his chamber like a pirate making off with booty, but he was not certain he could move from his seat. Instead, he watched her progress with everyone else, the darkness receding like some horrible, black tide, and then, when she had touched the Prince's hand, accepted his help to kneel at her place, the darkness and ugliness flared inside him again with renewed vengeance, blocking out all else as it clawed at him to remove the gallant usurper with one well-aimed bullet.

He took several deep, steadying breaths, keeping himself firmly in hand while everyone continued about their business around him. As he indulged in more wine, he watched her from the corner of his eye. Sparrow seemed to enjoy the Prince's company, smiling and blushing, seeming to flirt with the arrogant young bastard. When Karasu had taken her hands again to show her how to use the _hashai_ properly, when that cretin dared touch her wrist, trailing his fingers over the smooth skin, he had clenched his fists at his sides to refrain from drawing his weapon. Koneko continued to converse with him as though nothing was amiss, but he could barely focus on anything she said. Fortunately, he had a wealth of experience in pretense with women, and nodded and spoke at all the right times, when in reality, his mind could not wander from the spectacle before him. Sparrow was talking to the Prince as though they were old friends, their voices low, intimate, each smiling as though sharing in some private humor.

When she finally conceded to look at him, he'd been unable to hide the darkness burning inside him. He knew she could see it; he saw the stiffening of her posture, the fire flaring up in her guarded eyes. She was angry with him, but he could not bring himself to be concerned. She needed to know whom she was dealing with. On impulse, he took Koneko's hand, not even sparing her a glance as he drew it into his lap, his eyes only for Sparrow. Her expression darkened, and could feel the tension heighten, the danger of the situation almost palpable. His fingers trailed meaningfully over Koneko's bare, creamy shoulders, and he could almost sense Sparrow watching the movement even as she held his gaze. And then, abruptly, the she looked away, returning her gaze deliberately to Karasu. The Thief swore silently to himself.

And then the dancing started; Karasu was helping her to her feet and leading her out onto the floor. Koneko had taken his hand, and he allowed her to guide him onto the floor too, but he could hardly look at her as they took their positions. The tone the minstrel set was slow, almost mournful. He held Koneko closer, watching over her shoulder as the other pair revolved gracefully around the floor. Still she did not spare him so much as a glance; she even had the nerve to give the Prince a heart-stopping smile and flutter those lashes of hers, as though she welcomed his attention.

Reaver knew a violent urge to rip her from the Prince's arms that was almost overpowering. He could hear her laughter, could see her pretty blushes. She was exceptionally beautiful tonight, too beautiful for her own good. Later, when he closed his fingers around her throat, he'd be sure to tell her that. Her skin shone like a pearl in the soft light, and her movement were graceful, hypnotic. The black, silk robe hugged every curve of her body, and Karasu was making a subtle job of feeling those curves. He held her much to close; the darkness in the Thief burned at the sight of his arms around her. He could barely stand to watch the spectacle while remaining visibly impassive.

He was also aware of Koneko's unusual silence, but he couldn't quite bring himself to give her any notice. As soon as the first song ended, he passed her off to the first man to ask her for a dance; his eyes were locked on his quarry, and he stalked determinedly across the hall. No one dared get in his way; even the women who wanted to dance with him held their distance.

He reached his prey quickly; the little traitor was still locked in Karasu's embrace as he began to lead them into the next tune, but the Pirate caught both their attentions, and he felt a twisted satisfaction at the way the color drained from her cheeks.

"May I cut in?" he asked, but it was hardly a question. Karasu watched him coldly, measuring the Thief's intent, then bowed courteously, offering him Sparrow's hand. He took it, closing his larger one securely around it as he pulled her into his arms. He was immediately aware of the warmth of her skin, reaching him through their clothes, and he held her closer, looking down into her wide eyes. She stared up at him as though he had lost his mind, and maybe he had; he certainly felt a madness grip him as they began to move together, their bodies brushing against each other as they danced. He lead her away from the center of the room, guiding her to the edge of the other dancers, where less eyes were able to invade his private world.

"I'm pleased to see you've made a new friend," he said lightly, but there was nothing light about the intensity in his eyes.

Sparrow stared insolently up at him, her eyes guarding her thoughts, and her trepidation. "Karasu is very good company. I can understand how you might have come to be friends with him yourself."

"Yes... he is an unusual type," the Pirate agreed. "We're a lot alike, he and I. Is that why you've chosen him?"

He felt her body stiffen. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, don't be coy, Sparrow," he purred. "Even I will admit, he is almost as beautiful as I. But I can promise you, when you close your eyes, it won't be him you see."

Sparrow drew in a sharp breath, initially shocked by his words, then infuriated by his arrogance, but she held on to her composure and flashed a mocking smile. "In that case, I'll be certain to leave the candles lit and keep both eyes open."

The Thief's smile was brittle, and she almost winced when he tightened his arm around her waist, forcing her closer until they were flush against each other. Sparrow tried to gracefully put some space between them, but he was holding her too tight for her to do so without making a scene. The longer he held her there, the more aware she became of him; her hand slipped down from his shoulder to his hard chest, where she could feel his heart beating. He was so warm she felt light-headed, and she inhaled his scent deeply; he smelled of the sea, and of fire. The flames behind his eyes were barely concealed by the darkness. She could feel them licking along her skin when they were so close; she couldn't think properly when he held her like this, and she needed to keep her sanity. She would never be able to face her own reflection if she let him walk all over her. The Thief's head dropped down until his lips hovered near her ear, and she heard him inhale the scent of her hair.

"I can't really blame the young bastard," he said ruefully. "He doesn't stand much of a chance."

"Are you implying that I am the seducer?" she asked breathlessly.

"You are," he murmured, his voice a low caress. "I speak from experience."

Sparrow felt a low heat building inside her, fueled by the flames passing between them, and again she tried to get away from him, unwilling to lose the anger that shielded her. He did not let her go. He was touching her, only gently at first; his hands moved over, shaping her curves, and his lips brushed against her ear, then her temple, and began a trail to her mouth.

"What is this about, Reaver? Have you ever considered I might tire of your games?"

"No games, love," he murmured. "Only desire. Only pleasure."

"You do not need me for that," she said, trying to steel herself against him. "And in case it has never entered your head, I don't need you for that."

The Pirate seemed to freeze in place. She couldn't even feel him breath, and instinct told her to retreat; again, he held her tight.

"In a hurry to return to your new lover?"

Sparrow felt her blood run cold. "Aren't you in a hurry to return to your mistress?" she retorted. "Let go of me, Reaver, it's none of your business where I'm in a hurry to get to or what I do when I get there."

"You're beautiful when you're jealous," he said. "You needn't be. I can easily spend a few hours satisfying you before I go to her. There is no need for you to seek another."

Sparrow gave him a hard shove, and he finally released her. She was in a speechless state of fury, almost trembling with rage, and she walked away as fast she could, weaving through the dancers until the Pirate lost sight of her.

Reaver stood where she'd left him for only second before turning and walking away, lest he go after her and do something rash. He could feel his own anger burning inside him; whatever he had been attempting there, he had handled it like a fool. His own desires began clawing at him the moment he'd touched her, and now they demanded he take pursuit, but he was determined as he sought out Koneko; he all but tore her from the arms of her dance partner and took her into his own, spinning her around the room as he fought for a semblance of control. As they moved, he caught sight of Sparrow, in Karasu's arms once more; the two of them danced together like lovers lost in their own world. Just once he saw the Prince steal a kiss from her, and then he could bear to watch no more, lest he dispose of the Prince once and for all. When the dance ended, he gave Koneko a suggestive smile and she allowed him to lure her from the crowd, taking her through the entrance and along the halls leading to her own chamber. When they were alone, he assaulted her lips with his, kissing her as though she would be the last woman he would ever touch. He did not give her gentleness, he was too inflamed. He wanted to taste, to feel, to get lost in the splendid body joining so willingly with his. Koneko was beautiful and passionate, but the harder he tried, the more frustrated he became. She did not consume him as he desired; his response to her touch was almost indifferent, but the pent up desire in him was fueling his anger and driving him to the edge of violence. His hold on her turned rough, almost demanding that she make him need her, until finally, she was struggling to get away from him.

"What is the matter with you?" she hissed, her eyes hard and angry.

Reaver was breathing hard. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the burning red haze, but it persisted. He looked through it into Koneko's accusing eyes, and he tried to answer her coherently. "I am too long without you, pet, nothing more."

"Do not insult me," she spat, and she wrenched herself from his hold. "It is the Albion wench you lust after, anyone can see it."

Reaver shook his head again, this time in denial. "No, she is just a woman."

Koneko scoffed. "Tell me no lies, Pirate. I'll not hear them." Her dark eyes were cold, glaring at him disdainfully. "Look at the mighty Pirate King," she taunted mockingly. "Look at how you have fallen. Beholden to a woman who won't even have you. It is my brother who lies with her tonight, while you squander away what we have together."

"It is not true," he denied, but she did not listen.

"It is," she accused, her anger thrumming between them. "That you would cast me aside for the likes of her... you will regret this insult, Pirate King."

Reaver watched with unseeing eyes as she turned dramatically and stormed away, his mind reeling with the images she had put there. Of Karasu and Sparrow. He could almost see her looking up at Karasu with a satiated, reverent look reserved only for a lover. Over and over he told himself it did not matter, he tried to block them out, but the darkness within him only grew stronger; yet it was not the darkness that threatened him. It was Sparrow. How was she be able to do this to him? How was she able to destroy him this way? He was Reaver. She was taking away who he was, changing what made him great and legendary. He could not want another woman. He could not think straight when he was close to her. He did not even kill, because she asked him not to. Everything that he was, she was laying to waste; he needed to have her, but every time he touched her, he became more and more lost.

He couldn't let this happen. He wouldn't let her change him. He wouldn't lose himself, the man he had made of himself for over two-hundred years.

It was time. To save himself, he had to be rid of her. He would end this torment now, while he still remained sane enough to do the deed. It was his only chance. The only way.

Turning on his heel, he set himself on a course for Sparrow's chamber. If he did not find her there, he would scour this manor until he did find her. With every step he shed the remnants of his control, he embraced the darkness that consumed him. He became unnaturally aware of his heart, pounding in anticipation, his hot blood flowing through him. Every sense was heightened; he could hear the silence of the house as though it were pressing in on him. He could see clearly even in the near darkness. His hand was steady as his fingers drew the _Dragonstomper_ from its holster, and his steps were silent as he approached her chamber.

Without preamble, he flung the door aside, nearly tearing it from its track.

Sparrow was there. Alone. She turned at the sound of his entrance, and for a full minute, they stared silently at each other. She did not look stunned by his abrupt appearance, though her gaze took in the gun in his hand. Briefly he noticed that her makeup was worn away, and that her hair was falling about her shoulders in some places.

"The pretty Prince has left you unsatisfied?" he asked, his voice flat and cold.

"I sent him away," she added dryly. "Hard though it is for you to comprehend, I am no harlot to throw myself at every man." Her voice was steady, so calm while he was in chaos, and it only served to rile him further. "Is it he you were expecting to find here?"

The Pirate caressed the hammer of the weapon with his thumb, as though seeking reassurance. He swallowed hard and brought it up, aiming straight between her eyes, and cocked it. The sound created a ringing finality. "No. I have found what I am looking for."

Sparrow did not flinch. She did not cower. She had been shot at more times than she could count; twice in just this manner. She watched him with steady eyes.

"Decided you don't need me after all?" she whispered. "Then let me go free. My blood is not yours to shed."

Reaver swallowed hard, his aim deadly, his heart pounding. "It is the only way," he breathed. "You ask for freedom, but it is I who am prisoner. With you, everything that is Reaver is lost."

The air thickened between them, and Sparrow narrowed her eyes and held out her hands open at her sides, her palms facing him as though in supplication. "Killing me will not save you, Pirate."

"I do not need salvation."

And in a flash, he squeezed the trigger, allowing himself no room for second thoughts.

In the small room, the gun's report was deafening. Sparrow stood stock still, not even closing her eyes as, once again, she met death head on.

But in that split second, she felt something fly past her, skimming her temple and making her hair flutter as though a light breeze had blown through it. From what felt like a long distance, she heard the ball of lead embed itself in the wall behind her. And she was still alive.

Reaver stared at Sparrow, breathless and unmoving. He had missed. No, the Pirate King never missed. He had altered his aim in the last second. The barrel of the gun no longer faced her directly. He hadn't killed her. He couldn't kill her. He had intended to, was determined to, but something inside him wouldn't allow that to happen.

He looked down at the weapon in his hand. Several minutes passed without a word. This was inconceivable. Impossible. Why couldn't he kill her? She was destroying him piece by piece, but he couldn't let her go. He needed...

Sparrow watched the Pirate staring at the _Dragonstomper_ in mute confusion and disbelief. For what felt like several minutes, she couldn't bring herself to break the silence. He hadn't killed her. He had missed, deliberately, unconsciously. When he finally did move, it was to slowly look up at her. There was no expression on his face. Only the Shadows in his eyes seemed alive and moving.

"Reaver?" she whispered, when she could stand his silent regard no longer.

The Pirate felt the caress of her voice as she said his name, and again his heart began to pound against his chest. Without a word, he cast aside the useless weapon. It clattered across the floor and skidded into a corner. Then he took one step toward her. And another. She did not retreat from him. There was no where she could go. No way she would escape him.

"Stay away from me," she hissed, aware of the change in his demeanor. He was stalking after her like a predator, but this time, his intent was not to kill.

"No, Sparrow," he said, still advancing on her.

"I mean it," she almost snarled. "Even laying aside your recent attempt on my life, I don't want you near me after you've been with her."

"I have not had her," he countered, relentless as he towered over her, his hands already reaching out to caress her bare shoulders and trail gently up her throat, and back down.

"Don't lie to me," Sparrow said, "I saw you two through the window. Kissing like a long-separated couple in a cheap romance novel. I almost felt sentimental myself."

"What you saw was a lie," the Pirate said, brushing her black robe just a few inches down her arm, slowly exposing the curve of her breasts.

"And I expect you want me to believe you didn't spend last night with her?" she scoffed, holding herself stiffly. "Or that you weren't just with her, before you got this harebrained scheme to come here and kill me? Was that for her or for you?"

The Thief growled low in his throat and grabbed her arms roughly. "It was for me. For Reaver. My one chance at reclaiming myself. But I failed. I am lost."

Silence followed his words, broken only by their combined breathing. She stared at him in disbelief, her green eyes dark with suspicion and confusion. "You are raving," she finally said.

"Am I?" he asked, his voice abruptly lowered to a soft murmur. One hand released her arm and glided back up over her bare shoulder and up her neck, until his hand was spanning her jaw. His thumb rested on her cheek, stroking back and forth in a feather-light caress. "Why should I not be, when I am prisoner to another?"

"Don't you talk to me about being a prisoner," she snapped.

The Thief only smiled sardonically. "I cannot want another woman. I have not had Koneko. You enthrall me and she does not. I thought to be rid of you once and for all, to rid myself of this affliction, but I cannot. You are my woman, Sparrow, and you will destroy everything I am."

Sparrow swallowed, unable to speak. She was uncomfortably aware of her heart thudding loudly in her chest, louder still when Reaver's lips slowly began to descend to hers. He was intent, showing no hesitation, no indecision.

"You can't do this, Reaver, and expect me to forgive you when you go back to her afterwards," she whispered. "That will be the final straw for me. I will go and you will not stop me. So just save us the trouble and walk away from this."

He knew she still didn't understand, didn't believe what he was saying, but it didn't matter. She would in time. Until then, it was hard to say what would become of him. All he knew for certain was he would perish without tasting her, immortality be-damned. She softened against him when he pulled her closer, her body fitting snugly against his own.

"I hate you, Pirate," she moaned, every inch of her skin coming alive in response to him. Flames seemed to arc between them, burning away any resistance she might have offered him.

"I need you, Sparrow," he murmured, his lips lightly brushing against hers. "Damn you for making me need you."

He knew he was on a sure path to damnation, but it was far too late to change course. The day he had taken her captive and sailed away with her he had sealed his fate, but immortality was a long time, and if he did not outlive this obsession, he had the comfort of knowing he could keep her always within reach. He would lock her away inside a gilded cage, if it became necessary, kept only for him.

He was almost violent as their mouths came together, forcing her lips to part with his and tasting her as though he would never have enough. Sparrow's response was to pull him closer, to tear aggressively at his clothes, and he eagerly obliged her, sliding out of the garments until he was able to press the full, searing length of his body along hers; only her thin silk robe remained between them. Her hands began to explore over his skin, as though she needed to touch him as much as he needed her. The Pirate grit his teeth against the urge to ravish her, but she did not make it easy. Her lips broke away from his and began to follow the path of her hands, kissing and tasting his throat, shoulders and chest. Reaver knew she thought this would be the last time she would touch him, that he would leave her when he was finished, but he did not waste his breath trying to convince her otherwise. Roughly, he pulled one of her knees up around his hip and slipped a finger inside her, testing her. Her whole body shuddered in his arms, and when he thrust two fingers deep into her soaked channel, her hips bucked against his hand and her teeth pierced into his skin. Pain lashed through him and he growled her name, lifting her clean off the floor as he did so.

Sparrow clung to his shoulders and cried out in alarm when she felt the head of his shaft pushing insistently into her, but when she looked into his eyes she didn't dare resist him; she couldn't even if she wanted to. He appeared, more animal than man, more Shadow than Reaver, and he gave her no choice but to accept him. A hoarse cry escaped her throat as her slick muscles stretched around him. It felt as though he was tearing into her, but she only tightened her arms and legs around him, as though to draw him in deeper.

One hand held her bottom and the other made a tight fist in her hair; he forced her lips to his again as he thrust himself into her over and over. Every whimper and moan was captured in his mouth, and when he felt her nails tearing at his back, he imprinted his teeth in her lower lip, then pulled her head further back and bit into the tender flesh of her neck. He continued to scythe in and out of her, but it wasn't enough. He cupped her head firmly in his hand, turning her face up to his, and he watched every spasm of pain and pleasure that flashed across his face. Sparrow looked boldly into his eyes, and he felt a wrenching sensation in his chest. An ache.

"You are _mine_, Sparrow." She was filled with Light, and the Shadow in his soul would not release her. "Always mine."

Sparrow felt her heart clench in her chest. It almost killed her to hear those words, knowing he didn't mean them, but this once she would let herself believe him. When his lips took hers again, more gently this time, she gave herself over into kissing him, into loving him. He carried her across the room. When she felt the soft bed beneath her she expected him to follow her, but he stood over her and began to thrust into her again, watching her writhe in ecstasy. His face was hard as his hands tore at her robe, exposing the rest of her body to him. Sparrow could feel a blush surfacing, but she did not feel shy in the least; she took his hands in hers, needing to feel them on her skin. His caresses were those of a tender lover; he encircled her throat loosely with his fingers, then spread them wide as he reached her collarbone. His eyes bored into hers as his hands branded her, cupping her breasts before continuing down her rib cage and encircling her waist. She could almost feel him searching for something as he stared into her, and she had a horrible feeling he would find it, whatever it was.

"This is us, Sparrow." He almost had to grit the words through his teeth; her muscles were clenching unbearably around him, and he could feel his own body tightening. They were close, but he wouldn't give her release just yet. "No one, not your precious Jack, not even the Prince, will make you burn the way we do together."

Sparrow couldn't find the words to reply as her sheath began to pulse around him; her back arched and she tossed her head back, and her legs trembled as the pressure built between them. The Pirate knelt on the bed and hovered over her, watching her as she hovered at her peak. She was taut as a bow and so tight he could hardly force himself to move inside her; her lips pleaded with him mindlessly as he held her on the edge, then released a tormented cry of ecstasy as his control finally snapped and he slammed into her again. Her body convulsed and her muscles spasmed around him, and she chanted his name senselessly, crying out in relief when she felt him release deep inside her, when she felt his seed fill her.

Reaver trembled as he collapsed half on top of her, and she welcomed his weight. Their immortal bodies clung to each other as they awaited the return of their souls; souls that were bound into one, melded together in the timeless fires that burned between them.


	24. Averment and Defiance

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the original Fable(s).

Author's Drabble: This is really a bridge between chapters. Clarifying and finishing of the last chapter, as well building for the next. And thank you so much for the reviews! Really, so many of you outdid yourselves. I'm humbly grateful.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Averment and Defiance

* * *

Sparrow scarcely slept that night. For hours she lay with her eyes closed against the darkness, feigning sleep as she waited for the moment when she would feel a shift of the bed and Reaver would quietly shuffle from the room, leaving her supposedly asleep and unawares.

He did wake. Several times. Each time he woke with a hunger and would reach for her, and Sparrow would go to him willingly, even eagerly. Each time she felt a curious tightening sensation in her chest, as though something were flourishing inside her. Her heart was leaping erratically, heightening the heady euphoria she experienced with each touch of his hands, of his lips, each time their bodies joined; when they collapsed in exhaustion, their limbs entangled, she could feel her heart squeeze inside her chest, bracing itself for the moment he would depart, and when she would follow suit. She could already see the moment vividly in her mind, as though it were a waking dream: she would wait just long enough for Reaver to leave and she would slip away in the night, would walk boldly through the front door without a backward glance. Then, she would make her way down to the harbor and collect Jack, and they would finally board a ship that would take them far away from this place... that would take them home...

Somehow the idea did not give her the sense of elation she expected.

But that moment never came. It seemed she had barely closed her eyes, just as golden-pink streaks of dawn were reaching across the sky, and opened them a moment later to find herself bathed in full sunlight and held snugly against a hard, warm chest. Her palm caressed the bronze skin pressed to her cheek, slowly shaping each contour she could reach; his chest, his shoulders and arms, his back...

"Sparrow." He murmured her name huskily as his lips brushed her temple. He lingered there, his lips feathering over the raw pink line left behind where his bullet had grazed over her skin, and his hold tightened around her as he placed trails of soft kisses along the side of her cheek, drifting closer and closer to her lips. He lingered at the corner of her mouth for only a brief moment before he drew away and looked into her eyes; they were tired, and the beginnings of dark smudges were appearing beneath them, but they were alight with something he couldn't define.

"I see I've worn you out again," he said, a smirk touching his sensual mouth.

Sparrow shoved tiredly at his chest. "Be careful what you say, Pirate; your ego is showing." He couldn't resist her smile, but then her humor vanished and she looked at him soberly. "I thought you would leave."

She said it quietly, matter-of-factly; her eyes were careful and guarded, but the Thief was perceptive, seeing into her with only a glance. "I would be no where else," he murmured. "You belong with me, in my bed."

He watched her bite her lower lip, and his gut tightened when she smiled impishly. "Well... _you_ are with _me_... in _my_ bed, as it were."

The Pirate smiled wickedly, her only warning before he captured her lips and kissed her thoroughly. He shifted until she was under him and he was lying between her thighs, propping himself on his elbows and pinning her to the bed while his hands cupped her face, holding her where he wanted her. By the time he released her she was already responding to him, arching closer to him, her legs instinctively encircling his hips.

"I did come to you," he quietly affirmed. Sparrow looked up at him, perplexed. The unexpected solemnity of his expression bewildered her. He was no longer looking directly into her eyes, but taking in every detail of her face; she could almost feel his gaze like a caress, and his fingers began to idly stroke through her tousled curls, smoothing the crimson-gold hair back against the pillow. "I have kept you prisoner at my whim, never knowing it was I being held captive."

Sparrow swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware of her heart pounding against her ribs. She felt more vulnerable than she had ever been, and it had nothing to do with her current position beneath him. "I'm not doing anything to hold you to me."

"No, Sparrow, you are not," he assured her gently. "None the less, I meant everything I said to you. It is not something I claim to understand, but I know that I need you; I have never needed anyone or anything. Even if this obsession is destroying everything that is Reaver, I know you are my woman."

She swallowed again and tried to find a reasoning in his words. The Thief could not mean was he was saying. It had to be some kind of trick, or a trap, but to what purpose? He already had what he wanted. What more could he take from her? "You do not need to appease me with pretty words, Reaver. You already got what you came for."

The Pirate gave her a wry smile. "What I came for was to end my torment, to rid myself of this obsession. I may have temporarily succeeded at the first, but I failed abysmally at the latter."

"Temporarily?"

"Yes," he murmured, slowly lowering his head to nuzzle her slender throat. "I'll admit, I had every intention of ending your life, but I could not. _Could_ not. I squeezed the trigger, but something inside me wouldn't let you die, and change the course of my aim. So if I cannot kill you, I have concluded that I must keep you forever as I will always want you again."

Sparrow fell silent, but he was already distracting her with his lips, leaving flames wherever they grazed her throat. Determinedly, she tried to hold on to the conversation.

"Keep me... forever?" she whispered, trying not to betray the turmoil slowly building inside her. "What do you mean? You haven't got a secret harem you're going to lock me away in, do you?"

She could feel his smile against her skin. "Such intriguing ideas you have. I could do that. Then I would always have you ready and waiting for me whenever I need you."

She tugged gently at a lock of his hair. "Be serious, Reaver. You can't 'keep' me, and certainly not forever."

"Why can't I?" he asked, his eyes serious as he lifted his head to look at her. "You and I, we have forever, and more. We will never age, never sicken, never die. Our bodies and souls burn when they are brought together. You told me you wanted one someone, and you wanted it forever. We can have that, Sparrow," he said, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "We can have this for eternity."

She could see the picture he painted, and her heart nearly burst with longing, but it just couldn't be true. Not with the Thief. "It is not obsession that I want. I want a love that will burn for the rest of my life. I want a love who can share my life."

"Is love not itself a meeting between lust and obsession?" he asked.

"No, love is more than either combined," she whispered, looking gravely into his eyes.

"If it is love you desire, then I will love you," he stated simply.

Exasperated, Sparrow shook her head. "You cannot simply force yourself to love someone, Reaver, or pretend to just to keep them with you."

"No force," he murmured, his lips hovering close to hers again. "No pretense. I will love you everyday, and you will be happy by my side." He gave her a mischievous smile as he was struck by a sudden thought. "Sparrow, my lovely Pirate Queen."

Sparrow shoved at him in response, but his response was to chuckle. "Absolutely not. I am no pirate. I have already built a life for myself. An honest life."

"A _boring_ life," Reaver rectified. "A life unsuited for one capable of greatness."

"I have had enough 'greatness' to last several lifetimes," she said darkly.

The Pirate did not immediately reply as he looked down at her pensively. "Would it be so terrible to spend forever loving me?" he finally asked.

For the first time, Sparrow looked away. "Who said I love you to begin with?"

From the corner of her eye, she could see him smirk down at her. "Your eyes tell me every time you look at me," he said. "Do you think I did not feel you tremble through the night, whenever you thought I would leave you? Or feel your heart flutter like a bird fleeing capture when I touch you? You want this. We both know it's the truth, Sparrow."

Even as he said the words, her heart began to race again, and something was constricting her throat until it was difficult to breathe.

"Sparrow... _would_ it be so terrible?" he asked, and she could hear none of the arrogance in his voice that she had grown so accustom to. His words were stark and sincere, and her gaze was immediately drawn back to his face. All trace of Shadows were gone, and for the first time she was no longer looking into the face of Reaver the Pirate King, but the man, lost so long ago beneath centuries of death, vice, and sin. She tried to speak, but she was so stunned it took a moment to find her voice.

"No," she whispered. "It wouldn't be. But what about when you tire of me, or decide you _do_ want another woman, or even all women? It doesn't have to be Koneko. It could easily be someone else. My heart would be broken. Can you even understand what it is to be heartbroken?"

For a brief moment, something flashed across his face, and that fast she was faced with the Pirate once again.

"My pet, do not frighten yourself with such thoughts," he said gently. His lips lightly feathered over hers once. "Your heart is my greatest treasure; I will keep it well."

And he kissed her again, just as lightly, teasing her until she whimpered against his mouth. He could feel the answering heat rushing through her. "No one said you have it," she protested weakly. Their lips met again, clinging to each other for a brief moment until Reaver broke away.

"I am a pirate," he said, and his hips began a slow, rocking motion against hers. A broken moan escaped her lips and he gave her a haughty grin. "I know when my quarry is ready to surrender, when the plunder is mine for the taking."

* * *

It was hours later when Sparrow was finally able to persuade the Thief out of her bed, into the bath, and eventually into his clothes. When he finally allowed her to dress, they left the Shi household together and called on a rickshaw to take them into the city. Sparrow still felt a twinge of uncertainty after everything that had happened, and she watched the Thief furtively as they enjoyed what Keiko had to offer, but everything was so new to her she often couldn't resist letting her guard down and truly enjoying herself fully in the Pirate's company. Reaver, for his part, was remarkably at ease, living in the moment as was his way, and he flirted with her outrageously until she was almost glowing from embarrassment.

To his displeasure, she firmly reminded him that there was still business that needed attending to; he stalled her repeatedly on the way to the harbor with stops at the sooth-sayers or the incense shop, or by taking her to a popular tea-house where they were entertained by beautiful women with peculiar painted faces. Finally she offered to go by herself so he could enjoy the dance ceremonies or whatever he wanted, and to her surprise, he capitulated graciously; they had barely been aboard his ship for a full second when she understood why.

As he lead her up the gangplank with a hand on the small of her back, her eyes automatically swept the deck. Not many men were left on board except for Bretton and a few others; most of them had to be at one of the many taverns or brothels that lined the boardwalk. It didn't take long to find Jack, who looked to her just as she spotted him climbing down the foremast. She saw his eyes immediately jump behind her to the Pirate, and she followed his gaze. Reaver was smiling at him with a malicious triumph, and she almost groaned, realizing she should have seen this coming.

"Don't even," she hissed in a low voice. He looked down at her and flashed a dark smile.

"What could you possibly mean, my love?" he asked, trying to look the very picture of innocence, but she made a face that only he could see, letting him know she wasn't having it.

"You know exactly what I mean," she said. "You're exactly the type to gloat over your rival just when you _think_ you've won."

"He was never my 'rival'," the Pirate said complacently. "That would imply a sense of equality." His hand abruptly slid down her back to curve around her bottom, and he pulled her against him until they were barely a breath apart. "And I _know_ when I've won." She glowered at his arrogance, but his malefic smile only widened and he dropped his lips to his ear. When he spoke his voice was filled with cold promise.

"Don't make me prove it, right here in front of my men and your precious Jack."

Sparrow shivered, instinctively knowing he meant what he said; Reaver was not a man who knew boundaries. He did everything as he wanted, and while she was confident in her ability to hold her own, she didn't entirely trust the flash of heat that seared through her at his words. Her fingers shook as she brought them up to his chest, but she did not try to push him away. She was tempted to test his limit, but it wasn't worth what Jack would endure, or what it could cost her should he witness such scandalous behavior from her. She was still his commanding officer and she would always have to remember that.

"All right, you've made your point," she muttered. His lips briefly grazed the side of her throat and she stiffened against him, but he then released her, his hand firmly caressing her bottom before letting her walk away. He watched her disappear into his cabin where she shot him a glare before disappearing through the door. Grinning to himself, he hailed his first mate.

"I want you and three of our most able-bodied men ready to depart and waiting for us at the carriage house an hour after dawn."

"Aye, cap'n," Bretton said.

"And bring that boy, the lad with the red hair. He has a strong back and a pair of hands, and can take care of the grunt work along the way."

"And what about me?"

Reaver turned slowly to face Daniels. Though his face was stony and gave nothing away, Reaver could almost feel the burning anger emanating from him.

"_You_? What about you?"

"I should be going with you," Daniels said brusquely.

"You wish to go against the orders of your captain?" the Pirate taunted, a sly smile playing about his lips.

Daniels did not take the bait. "It will be safer to have another warrior on hand, and expedient to have another pair of hands."

Reaver hid his smile. This could definitely keep him amused along the road, and the lad _did_ make a good case for himself. "If you come with us, you come under my command. You will follow my orders as I would expect any of my men, and be punished as any of they would for disobedience."

Daniels nodded shortly. "Aye... Capt'n."

"Splendid!" the Pirate said. "Positively splendid. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have... other business to attend to in my quarters. Tatty-bye."

* * *

Sparrow set about her list of tasks the moment she entered the captain's cabin. Her first stop was to collect the maps she had drawn up the day before; the ink was now dry and she rolled them up to be stored away in her new rucksack. She then entered the inner cabin and raided the wardrobe, taking out the clothes and leather armor she had purchased back in Sadrhi. She folded a few spare shirts and loose-fitting trousers and added a warm cloak in case they met with bad weather, then she packed her leather boots and the leather vest; they were light-weight and would serve her well in the jungle much better than heavy steel or chain.

Just as she was fitting everything inside the sack, she heard the cabin door open behind her and she turned to see Reaver entering with a look of such smugness Sparrow knew could mean nothing good.

"What did you do?" she asked immediately.

The Pirate smiled. "My pet, what makes you think I have done anything that warrants your suspicion?"

"That look on your face, to start," she pointed out, placing her hands on her hips. "You're awful pleased with yourself about something."

"I have done nothing but make arrangements with my men to leave in the morning," he said innocently.

"Really?" Sparrow said, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. "And who, might I ask, will be joining us?"

"I left that decision up to Bretton," he replied airily, walking across the cabin toward her.

"I see," Sparrow muttered warily. "Well, so long as that's done, there's something else I need from you."

"Name it, love," he whispered, closing the distance between them.

"My gun," she said, crossing her arms. "The one you took from me in Bloodstone. We're going into dangerous and uncharted territory, and I'm going to need a powerful weapon of my own I can rely on."

The Pirate gave her a measuring look, then wordlessly took a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked one of the lacquered cabinets. From it he produced the gleaming _Nightwatch_, and when he brought it to her, he took her hand and wrapped her fingers almost sensually around the cold, dark metal. Sparrow stared down at her most favored weapon; the _Nightwatch_ had been with her for over ten years, had served her people and protected them alongside her; it was almost apart of her. She took a moment to appreciate the weight of it in her hand and could feel that it was still loaded, and instinctively she caressed the hammer with the pad her thumb.

Suddenly she looked back up into the Pirate's eyes, and he was watching her with such a peculiar expression that she instinctively sought to retreat.

"Don't pretend like you're afraid of me now," the Pirate chided gently.

Sparrow was stunned for a moment, then smiled sheepishly at her own behavior. "I'll never be afraid of you, Pirate."

"This 'Pirate' nonsense again," he said, exasperated as he pulled her closer, looking straight into her eyes. "Call me by my name. Just my name."

Sparrow swallowed hard. "Very well... Reaver."

He gave her a satisfied smile, then he released her. "Much better, pet."

"Every time you call me _pet_," she said indignantly, "it's back to Pirate." Turning her back on him, she eased the thigh-holster for the _Nightwatch_ from her tightly-packed rucksack and pulled her robe back from her right leg. As she brought up her right foot to balance on the bed, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind and in a flash Reaver's hand took the holster from her.

"What are you doing," she whispered apprehensively.

He was pressed full length along her back and his chin rested on her shoulder as he pulled the robe back over her skin, baring it slowly. "Let me, pet," he murmured, his gaze focused on his hands; he was careful not to pinch her with the first strap as he looped it at the inside her thigh. His fingers grazed over sensitive skin as he fastened the buckle, and he smiled when her leg abruptly twitched beneath his hand. Sparrow held herself rigidly still, forcing herself to breath slowly, though his smile told her she did not deceive him. As he reached the second buckle and tightened the strap, his lips grazed the side of her throat before he withdrew and released her. She stared back at him in confusion, but he only smiled.

Sparrow scowled, realizing he had only been teasing her, and she determinedly slipped the _Nightwatch_ into its holster and lowered her foot to the floor, pushing her robe back into place. "I already secured us a coach to take us to Riyo, which is a two day walk from Asaka Kogoyo, and it will be a two week journey there if conditions are ideal." She kept her composure, but the Pirate continued to smile knowingly.

"My ship will sail around the peninsula and meet up with us in six weeks time." He spoke with all the charm he was capable of, managing to sound just as businesslike as she. "There is a town much closer than Keiko where they can wait for us, and we won't have to bring the treasure so far back over land."

Sparrow nodded and straightened her robe again. "I – I'm going above deck... I think I need some air."

The Pirate watched her leave with his smile in place and Sparrow was grateful when she emerged out on deck. It was a calm day with large white clouds hanging in the late-afternoon sky, and she took a few deep breaths. Damn that pirate for always playing games with her. And with those she cared for. Immediately, she searched around the deck for Jack, but she didn't see him around. She wandered idly toward to ship's wheel, and when she happened to look up into the sails, she saw a lone man up in the crow's nest. She instinctively knew it was him, so she deftly climbed the shrouds, the skirt of her silk robe flapping around her legs when the wind kicked up. When she hoisted herself over the edge of the nest, Jack turned to see who had disturbed his peace. When he saw Sparrow, his eyes instantly became guarded, and for a minute she was at a loss for words.

"So, yeh've made yer choice?"

His abrupt pronouncement took her off guard. Sparrow looked into his eyes, but Jack gave nothing of his meaning away. It was all right... she understood regardless.

"I have made no choice."

His expression did not change; he merely turned to look out over the sea with his back to the town. Sparrow stood quietly beside him, unsure what to say, but uneasy with the silence between them.

"It seems you've only suffered since coming aboard this ship," she said quietly. "You should have listened to me when I told you to go."

"Even now, I couldna do so," Jack replied firmly, leaving no doubt in his voice. "But I'm not blind, Sparrow. I know somethin' 'as changed."

There was another moment of silence between them, and then, "Do yeh love 'im?"

Sparrow's first response was a vehement sound of denial, but then she hesitated, thinking of how Reaver thought himself in love with her. What he described couldn't possibly be love, but she did seem to mean... more to him. More than anyone else ever had, as shown by the fact that he couldn't, or wouldn't, kill her. But apart of her wondered if he loved himself too much to truly ever love another. As for herself...

"I don't know," she finally said. "What is love? The Pirate thinks himself in love with me, but he is merely obsessed. I never knew love outside of my parents and my sister, and that was all such a very long time ago... another life, really. Reaver and I don't go as far back, we don't have that much history, but somehow he is... special to me."

Jack nodded, processing this without muttering a sound. When he could finally speak, he said, "And I?" He turned to look down at her, and Sparrow looked up into his brown eyes. "Am I special te yeh, Sparrow?"

"Yes," Sparrow said quietly, without hesitation. "So special that I would have you stay here, where I know you'll be safe. We'll see each other again in a few weeks, and then we'll go home."

"Home..." He smiled wryly. "Will we really go? Or perhaps that Pirate will come up with another game for yeh."

"Even if he does, I've been away for too long. One way or another, this is my last adventure. Bloodstone needs its leader." Jack smiled warmly for the first time and looked out over the water again, seemingly satisfied. Sparrow didn't know what to make of his change in mood, but she was relieved to see him smile. She smiled too as she looked out over the water with him, but her complacency was short lived when she looked out at the high ridges that cradled the harbor. The low cliffs were covered with tall trees, but just over one she imagined she might have seen a flash of color. Frowning, she stepped around Jack, getting closer to the ledge of the nest as she squinted against the blue sky, waiting –

_A banner_..._ A red and gold banner_... Her colors. The flag of Bloodstone. For a moment she wondered if it was merely a trick of the light, but she someone doubted it. Avo curse that foolish man... Did none of her men obey her anymore?

"Jack..." she murmured, already climbing over the ledge of the nest. "If the captain happens to inquire after my whereabouts, inform him that I have to... run a few errands in town. Tell him I'll return to the Shi house before dark."

"What did yeh see?" He asked quietly, now looking himself.

Her head popped back up over the side of the nest. "Nothing that we should be speaking of or drawing attention to."

Jack nodded and watched her descend the shrouds and swing on a rope down to the dock. She walked away without a backward glance, her vivid red hair disappearing quickly into the crowd. He wished she'd told him where she was headed in such a hurry, but he was used to Sparrow taking action without explanation. He'd learned to trust her judgement over the years. He only hoped she remained safe.


	25. Spiced Red Rum

Disclaimer: Don't own Fable.

Author's Memo: Okay, this chapter basically wraps up the escapade in Keiko and we'll be moving on in the next chapter, and as much as I hate to include a spoiler, I feel inclined to warn you that there is a character death in this chapter. (Part of why the chapter title includes the word "redrum" :).) And that's all I'm going to say about that. Thank you so much for the reviews, of course. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I am hoping I didn't take it to far, but then again, at this point, several moral event-horizons have been crossed and the concept of "too far" has become blurred.

Warning: Character death and mild adult content.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Spiced Red Rum

* * *

In less than an hour Sparrow had bypassed the outskirts of Keiko and vanished into the dense foliage that grew in abundance for miles along the coast beyond the city. She wasted little time, dodging between trees and deftly avoiding roots that threatened to trip her as she ran with unnatural speed along what was little more than a deer path. While it was unlikely she could have been followed, she took the time to double back, only pressing ahead on her intended path once she was certain she was alone.

Finally, the very cliffs she had been observing from the harbor loomed over her, and she could see the great port town sprawled out below her across the water. She took a brief moment to catch her breath while she determined the best path up the cliffs. She had found no way around that would take her to the very top; her only option was a frontal assault. The trees crowding the ledge was perched on were just tall enough to reach the next ledge, so she hoisted herself onto the lowest branch and began to climb.

It was an easy matter to leap from the highest branch and land on the slim outcropping, but after that it was a steep climb to reach the very top. The trees grew still closer together and she used their sturdy branches to pull herself upward when her feet could not find a place to hold her. When at last the ground evened out, Sparrow was able to look down to the ocean on the other side, and she felt a conflicting mix of elation and exasperation. There was no mistaking it; the _Rose_ was anchored just on the far side, hidden from view of the harbor. Shaking her head, she began the treacherous descent down the sea cliff. When she was level with the mainmast, she called out to her crew.

"Ahoy there!"

One of the crew, a young sailor known as Taylor Baldwin, nearly fell from his perch on the highest gaff, and he clung for dear life as he looked around wildly for whomever had hailed him. He was not the only one; many of the crew were looking around in bewilderment, and Sparrow called out again, waving a hand in greeting until one of her men spotted her.

"It's the Captain!" shouted one of the men. "Fetch Sheriff Sedgewick!"

"He's already here," said a low, authoritative voice. He was looking up the side of the sea cliff where Sparrow was crouched, perched on the edge of a cliff on holding on by the low-hanging branch of a tree. Sparrow couldn't resist smiling down at his aged, weathered face. He appeared so in-control that her own worries suddenly felt small and manageable.

"Gresham, you foolish man. I thought I ordered you back to Bloodstone!" she called out over the wind and waves.

"Aye, Captain," Sedgewick called back, looking distinctly unrepentant. "And when I finally do see you safely home, I'll be more than happy to take ten lashes in the town square to atone for my insubordination."

Sparrow shook her head again. "Requesting permission to come aboard, sir!"

Without waiting for a reply, Sparrow lunged from her perch and easily cleared the water separating them; she landed nimbly on her feet amidst her crew, many of whom were staring at her as though they had never seen her properly before. It was then that Sparrow remembered her peculiar clothes and windblown hair, which she began to smooth self-consciously. Her headstrong Sheriff smiled at her through his mustache. Standing tall and dignified, he gave her a sharp salute, and almost as one, the crew followed suit. "It's a relief to see you alive and well, Captain."

Sparrow returned the salute. "At ease. And I have not been ill-treated," she assured him. "Quite the contrary."

"And Daniels?" Gresham asked, and for the first time there was a touch of concern in his voice.

"Perfectly well," Sparrow said. "For all his hatred of pirates, he works well among them." She paused and glanced around, aware of everyone listening to them. "Perhaps I could fill you in on everything in my cabin. There is much to tell."

Sedgewick nodded and allowed her to precede him. A path opened among the crew and Sparrow greeted several that she passed as she made her way through.

When she and Sedgewick were alone and seated comfortably in her outer cabin, she began to fill him in on the important points of what had happened since her capture, though she left out her entanglement with the Pirate himself and focused on being brief and moving on to the journey she was preparing to undertake the very next day. When Sedgewick finally wheedled out of her just where she and the Pirate were going, he turned a shade paler and began to voice one protest after another.

"Yes, I _know_ it's dangerous," Sparrow said in mock-exasperation. "I've weathered plenty of danger in my life, Mister Sedgewick, and will likely see much more before I'm finished."

"There is a saying that he who swims too often will drown," Sedgewick pointed out officiously. "If you insist on this folly, I must accompany you."

"No," she said flatly. "You are not putting your life on the line for this hunt, and neither is Jack. You can forget it."

Sedgewick blinked. "...Jack?"

Sparrow looked at him in confusion for only a second, then quickly looked away. Sedgewick noticed a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks and found himself quickly looking away and returning to the matter at hand.

"There is safety in numbers," he went on, "and Daniels and myself are both able warriors. It is our duty to protect you."

"This is not official business," Sparrow countered. "Your duty is to follow my command, ergo you should not even be here to argue the matter."

"We were halfway home when I realized we were making a huge mistake, leaving two of our own behind," he said. "Thus I _am_ here to argue the matter –"

"Yes, and you will still leave," Sparrow cut him off shortly. "And you will take my equally-wayward Commander with you. No," she said when he would have spoken. "Listen to me. This is an order. Tomorrow when the crew depart the _Reaver II_ to join Reaver and myself, I will have Jack go with them. You will meet with him at the end of the docks and you will both leave for Bloodstone."

Sedgewick faced her with a hard expression, but Sparrow did not give. "Need I remind you that you are an officer under my command, Sheriff?"

Sedgewick visibly stiffened, his posture abnormally straight.

"I thought not," she said, before he could answer. "When I return to the city, I will inform Jack of the plan. I am counting on you to see to it that he follows orders."

"Yes, ma'am," Sedgewick said reluctantly. He stood to leave then, but before he closed the door behind him, he stopped and looked back at her. "You do realize, of course, that the best solution is for you to leave too. There isn't a man aboard this vessel who won't fight in your name."

And Sparrow was left alone. For a moment all she was aware of was his words replaying in her mind. Leave... with them? It was possible. _The_ _Rose_ was her flagship and far more seaworthy than that unfortunate passenger ship. She sat in silence as she was overwhelmed with images of home... of _her_ coastal paradise. A place filled with _her_ people, where she had her own life. Bloodstone had come so far, and under her guidance it would thrive and prosper still further. She could return to her own home, her own bed, her own life... a life without Reaver. Back in her own territory, she would have the resources to keep the Pirate at a comfortable distance.

Sparrow jumped edgily to her feet, desperate to escape these thoughts, and walked through the door that lead to her own personal cabin. It was so different from the Pirate's. Her bed was narrow and neatly kept with crisp, white linens. The walls were lined with charts and maps, and books were strapped into their shelves along one wall. A desk occupied one corner, and a tall wardrobe kept another. She opened its latched doors and took in the sight of her own clothes. They were elegant and simple, but there was nothing as bright or luxurious as what she was wearing at that very moment. She touched the dark fabrics; this resembled what she was. Durable. Practical. Nothing flashy and self-indulgent, like the Pirate. They were so different... yet so much the same. If she were honest, she would simply tell Sedgewick that she _wanted_ to go on this adventure. But she couldn't tell them. The lust for danger and adventure bonded her to the Pirate, and as such some small, selfish part of her did not want to share it with anyone else.

Determinedly, she closed the wardrobe and left her cabin. This might very well be her last real adventure. Reckless though it was, there could be no question of her seeing it through.

"You have that look about you."

Sedgewick was waiting for her when she emerged from the outer cabin, and his shrewd eyes had immediately read her intentions.

"What look?" she asked.

"The one that tells me you're set on your path."

Sparrow nodded. "I am. Please, do not worry about my safety. You and Daniels are two of the few people left who remember what and who I really am. You know what I am capable of. I will be home in under two months, then life will return to normal."

Sedgewick was reluctant as he nodded in agreement. "I will be on the docks tomorrow at first light as ordered."

"Thank you," Sparrow said. "I must return now. There is still much to do before the day it out."

* * *

The path leading back to town somehow seemed longer and more dangerous in the fading afternoon light. When she finally set foot on even ground again, she set out through the forest at a full sprint, until the foliage around her was no more than a blur.

The town was just within her sight when she felt a prickle of unease, but a moment later something collided with her shins, and before she knew what was happening she was rolling and tumbling over the uneven forest floor. When she came to a halt, she grappled for her senses and pulled her head up in time to see figures emerging from the shadows of the trees. She could barely make them out in the dim light, but she could see that each of them had a weapon drawn. Her hand immediately reached for her pistol, but she had barely moved when she felt something pierce the side of her neck. Alarmed, her hand went immediately to her throat and jerked out she sharp needle. She looked down at it, her vision already fading in and out. She was so tired it was almost tempting to give in, but the danger surrounding her gave her a determined edge, and even as she swayed on the spot, she fought to hold on to consciousness. She tried to stagger to her feet, but as she pushed herself up, she was roughly shoved to the ground.

There was nothing for it. As everything started to go black, she sought desperately to gather whatever Will remained inside her. In her most vulnerable moment, it answered like an old friend and ally. She released the energy into the air, and several screams pierced the encroaching night. Sparrow could scarcely see as she leaned back against the trunk of a tree for strength, but she could hear a set of footsteps approaching. They moved slowly and cautiously; clearly the remaining one thought she was fading away, and she held herself completely still, struggling for breath until she felt him standing over her. As he bent down she released the remainder of her Will and heard the unmistakable sound of a blade sinking through flesh. The man did not cry out in pain, but fell to the ground with a quiet _flump_.

For several minutes Sparrow could not move from the tree that was holding her up, but after a while her vision began to return, then her strength, as her Hero blood fought off the poison's effects. When she could finally see, the first thing to greet her was the vision off a masked face lying between her feet. Embedded in the throat was an enchanted blade. Disgusted, she kicked the corpse away, and with shaking legs she struggled to her feet.

Sparrow looked around and counted a total of eight bodies. All wore identical black clothes with hoods and masks concealing their features. Each carried an identical pair of short, sleek swords; one worn at the hip, and another between the shoulder-blades. This was hardly a gang of thugs; these men were a trained mercenary unity. And no mercenary would hunt her down in such a manner without compensation. Someone had paid these men to come after her, likely to capture her, as the poisoned dart had clearly not been intended to kill her. Whoever had sent these men after her had intended that she be kept docile and alive. Just as clearly, they had underestimated her. The one who had sent these did not know what she truly was.

But where had they been meant to take her, exactly? Or to whom?

Sparrow did not linger any longer to ponder her questions. Already the hour grew late, and she was severely weakened from lack of sleep and the poison's effects. The Pirate might even now be considering where she'd got to.

* * *

Upon returning to the Shi house, the infamous Pirate King decided to wait out Sparrow's mysterious disappearance by amusing himself at his host's expense. After ordering a serving girl to bring him only the finest selection of alcohol available, he settled himself in the Prince's study and waited patiently as he slowly savored his way through each bottle.

Karasu did not disappoint him. It seemed only minutes had passed when his beauteous friend joined him.

"It appears this visit will end just like your last," the Prince commented mildly as he sat down across from the Pirate.

"How's that?" Reaver asked, taking in Karasu's mesmerizing beauty with his eyes.

"I'll have to clean up the mess you leave behind and spend the year restocking my wine and rum."

"And _sake_," the Pirate added. "But if that's how it must be, you should at least join me." He passed a bottle to Karasu. "Better to enjoy it while you have it, as I always say."

Karasu produced a small crystal cup from his desk and poured from the bottle before drinking. Meanwhile, his cold, haunting eyes observed the Pirate. He was drinking heartily straight from the bottle, as expected, but he did not appear overly concerned with his company or his surroundings. Something else had his attention, and Karasu had hardly any doubt what it was.

"Might I ask what has the King of Pirates drinking in a state of distraction?" he asked cordially. Reaver shrugged but did not answer. "Are you looking forward to leaving us so soon?"

Reaver smiled at this. "I do not look forward to leaving so much as moving ahea."

"Moving... ahead." The Prince watched his companion for a moment, then smiled pleasantly. "So it is not your destination... it is a life change you are pursuing."

The Pirate scowled, but Karasu could see him turning the words over in his mind. He refilled his cup and drank from it while he waited patiently, until finally the Pirate spoke again.

"Perhaps... perhaps life is changing in spite of me."

"And yet you do nothing to resist."

Reaver shook his head in denial. "At one time. But I have found no escape. Perhaps time will provide me with one."

"And if it does not?" asked the Prince. The Pirate dismissed the question with a shrug of his shoulders. Karasu watched him with concealed surprise, analyzing this lack of concern with deceivingly placid eyes. "Perhaps you are right. It is only natural to encounter change on the path of life. But sometimes the change is not to move forward at all, but to allow life to settle. I gather you've been wandering since you left your home behind."

Reaver shrugged indifferently again, but he covertly wondered where his friend was going with this dangerous train of thought. Men like himself and Karasu did not like to have their past explored or exposed, and right now his friend was treading foolishly close to a forbidden abyss.

"Why not consider it?" the Prince asked, pouring himself another drink as he continued to watch the Pirate.

"What's to consider?"

"Staying in one place," Karasu mused. "Some might call it 'settling down'. You have said often how you enjoy my city."

"It has its merit," the Pirate conceded. "But what do I have that holds me here?" The only thing that might hold him to one place had currently left him to his own devices while she ran off on her own; even if her pull was strong enough to keep him settled in one place, he would inevitably try to lure her away on some exotic escapade.

"You could have much holding you here," the Prince murmured softly. His pale eyes held the Pirate's Shadowed ones as he spoke in soft, seductive tones. "You could have a title, privilege, a wife... and still enjoy the vices you so love to indulge."

The Pirate stared at his friend. "A title and privilege are all well and good, but I don't think a wife is to my tastes. None of my previous brides lasted long. That whole 'til death do you part' always comes sooner rather than later."

"Things can change," Karasu repeated calmly. "And my sister is not so foolish a woman to stand in the way of a dangerous man."

"Koneko..." The Pirate spared a moment to think of his former lover. She was one of the few women he had ever known with a fire to mach his own, and if asked, before he had become so wrapped up in Sparrow, he might very well have agreed to take her as a bride. As it was, however... "Tempting offer though it is, I'm afraid I must decline."

Karasu poured himself another cup and took a measured drink. Then, "I was under the impression you were very taken with my dear sister."

"She is a captivating creature," the Pirate conceded. "But she is not made for me. Give her to a man who will give her everything she desires."

"Word has it that what she desires... is only you." The Prince watched the effect these words had on the Pirate. His friend seemed unconcerned by them, and Karasu pressed on. "Perhaps you no longer desire her. Is it that another creature has captivated you?"

The Pirate's thought immediately turned back to his fire-and-gold haired temptress. Even now her image danced before him like a siren; she was made from sunshine and flames, and she consumed him, but there was pleasure in the burning. Though she might reduce a man to little more than cinders and ash, there was something in her emerald eyes that made a man think it a fair price to pay. In his case, the Pirate knew it was too late. His Sparrow held him utterly enthralled, as the Prince had already perceived.

"Yes," the Pirate murmured quietly, and both were stunned by the ease of his admission. "Only by the most flighty of creatures."

"A sparrow," the Prince said, a demure smile now lingering about his perfect lips as he too envisioned her. "A bird that is not meant for a cage, no matter how comfortable and glittery."

The Pirate finished off the bottle in his hand before selecting another. "I'm afraid you may be right."

"And yet," Karasu mused, "is it that a cage is your only means of keeping her by your side?"

Reaver glared at the beautiful man sitting across from him, who seemed completely at ease as he drank the red liquid from his crystal cup. "What is your meaning?"

"Only that the moment you open that cage, she will spread her wings and fly away."

"I would pursue her," the Pirate decreed, "but she will not fly away."

"You're so certain of this," the Prince said; it was more of a comment than a question. "When hunted, a small sparrow will fly places the predator cannot follow."

"There is nowhere I cannot or will not follow. Sparrow is mine." His words came out so sharply that they took even him by surprise. For a full minute, all he could do was stare at the wine bottle in his hand, but his thoughts were no longer on drinking. The silence only grew heavier, and soon Reaver found himself feeling wearier than he had in some time. Perhaps he would rest until supper. He got to his feet and bowed courteously to his host before taking his leave. The Prince watched him go, his lips curved in a cryptic smile.

"We shall see, Pirate... we shall see."

* * *

The Pirate felt like he had barely dozed off when he opened his eyes again, but several hours must have passed for the sun was almost completely set. The first sensation he became aware of was the softness and warmth of a woman's body snuggled tightly against his own, and his heart skipped several beats when he looked down and caught a glimpse of red-and-gold ringlets spilled across the breadth of his chest. Sparrow's head lay securely in the hollow of his shoulder, and he could feel her soft breath caressing his throat. Impulsively, his arm tightened around her and he held her closer, content for the moment to simply bask in her warmth.

Sparrow had returned to him. Of course he had not doubted that she would, but that fact did nothing to dampen his pleasure at the realization. She had come to his bed and lain by his side while he slept, without any influence on his part. Of its own accord, his hand came up to touch her skin, but the moment he felt her he knew something wasn't right. Her normally smooth, soft skin was cold and clammy, and when he gently eased away to look down at her face he saw that she was pale and wan. With steady fingers, he pushed her hair back from her face and throat, and his keen eyes were immediately drawn to a small, red blotch that marred her skin. It was just below her ear, and a small bump was barely discernible at the very center of the mark.

As his fingers brushed the edge of the red blotch, Sparrow's eyes fluttered open and sought his. All movement ceased as his thoughts scattered. For a small moment, she was the entire focus of his being, and only then did he realize how vital it was to him that she had returned to his side. But then... what of next time? Perhaps Karasu was right. Sparrow was not meant for a cage, no matter how he liked to amuse himself with the idea, but how else could he keep her tied to him?

The Pirate directed his gaze back to her throat, lest she see his thoughts in his eyes, and after another moment he asked, "What happened?"

He heard her sigh and she lazily stretched beside him, her body brushing sensually along his. "Nothing happened, really. A group of men thought they could subdue and capture me by means of a poisoned dart, but they underestimated me and paid the price."

Reaver felt his body react to hers, but her casually-spoken words brought a frown to his sensual lips. "You were assaulted by a band of thugs?"

Sparrow shook her head. "I don't think they were common thugs. They gave the impression of a trained unit, not that I was able to gather much information. I was hardly aware of anything once they'd poisoned me, and by the time it had worn off enough that I could see, they were all dead."

The Pirate couldn't resist a pride-filled smirk. "I reckon they wouldn't have fared any better even if they _had_ known what they were going up against."

Sparrow grinned bashfully. "They were likely a mercenary unity," she went on. "The way they dressed, all the same with hoods and masks, attacking by ambush and stealth – makes me think of an assassin's guild. But they obviously weren't trying to kill me, or that dart would have been loaded with something lethal."

She was only musing aloud, but she was not oblivious to the way the Pirate's eyes hardened as she described her attackers.

"You know who sent them, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"Don't worry about it," he said, his voice unusually gruff. "I'll take care of it."

Sparrow smiled in spite of his tone. "I don't know where you've been, Pirate, but it seems you haven't noticed that I'm not exactly the type who just lets someone else take care of my problems."

He caressed her lips lightly with his own. "I though I told you to call me only by my name?" he teased gently.

"You can't distract me, _Pirate_," she protested softly, but already her fingers were tangling in his hair to pull his mouth closer. He kissed her again, just enough to tease her, then bit her lip sharply in warning. Finally, his name escaped her, and the Thief took her lips again, kissing her deeply as their bodies instinctively drew closer, their limbs intertwined. When he pulled away he looked down at her with his inclement gaze.

"I said I would take care of it. Trust me in this."

_Trust_. Only a fool would trust the Pirate King, but he made it sound like such a simple request. As easy as fitting her lips to his, as sharing the same breath.

"Just this once," she whispered, praying she was not making a mistake. Trusting him once could lead to trusting him again. She must not let such reckless behavior become common practice.

* * *

Reaver and Sparrow arrived in the dining hall together, and several minutes late. Every eye followed their progress as they joined their hosts at the high table. Belatedly, it occurred to Sparrow that everyone would know _exactly_ why they were late, and she shot the Pirate a covert glare. He clearly felt no remorse, if the cocky smirk that answered her was any indication, so she maintained her most dignified composure as she crossed the hall with him. When she would have taken her place next to Karasu, the Pirate smoothly cut her off and guided her to the ivory cushion beside Koneko. Sparrow gave him a brief, uncertain look, but the Pirate nodded imperceptibly, so she took her seat gracefully, if a little hesitantly. The exotic Princess clearly wasn't any more pleased with the arrangement than herself; when Sparrow extended a formal greeting, she could clearly see the muscles tightening around her pouty lips, though her face remained as serene as ever.

Sparrow found she couldn't concentrate well on the dinner conversation. Reaver was by far the opposite. He carried on jovially with the Prince and made certain the wine flowed freely. The nightly dinner gradually took on the air of a celebration, and Sparrow had barely touched the final dish before the Pirate was pulling her to her feet to dance.

"What's gotten into you tonight?" she asked as they fell in step with the first tune. The Pirate held her closer than was decent, and thwarted all attempts on her part to put distance between them. "Is this for your mistress's benefit, or the Prince's?"

"Mistress?" he asked, giving her a cocky smile. "I have only one mistress, though she denies her place as my Queen."

Sparrow ignored the jibe. "If you're trying to distract me, save yourself the effort," she said. "Why the fuss over the seating arrangements? Do you prefer the company of a certain enthralling man tonight?"

The Pirate looked sternly down at her. "You do not need to find him _enthralling_."

Sparrow laughed lightly as he lead her into a spin. When she landed softly against his chest, he held her close until his lips were just above her ear. "It is for both their sakes. Before the night is through, I intend to reveal one or the other as my quarry."

After the next spin, Sparrow glanced up at him quizzically, but the glint in his eyes warned her to ask no further questions. So instead, she followed his lead, playing the flirtatious coquette while Reaver monopolized her through dance after dance. Anyone watching might have thought them far-gone with wine and completely absorbed in one another, but Sparrow could sense his mind was still sharp as ever.

"Our host comes to take you away," the Pirate murmured in her ear. They had stopped to catch their breath between ballads, and Sparrow resisted the urge to glance around at the Prince.

"And will you deny him?" Sparrow asked.

"No, I think I'll let him have his way for now," he replied. "Just don't get too friendly with him. I would hate to cause a scene in front of all these lovely ladies."

Sparrow gave him a look that was both amused and exasperated, but before she could say anything, Karasu had joined them, and when he asked to cut in, the Pirate passed Sparrow to him with a courtly manner, and she was lead away by the beautiful Prince. His silver-blue eyes watched her with their peculiar warmth; it was strange to see when his eyes were often so cold and empty.

"So, you will be leaving us tomorrow," the Prince said, his voice low and soft.

"Yes, we will, at first light," she said. "Will you miss your friend? I understand Reaver does not make it here often, and now he's leaving again after only a few short days."

"It is the Pirate King's way," Karasu said calmly. "He'll never be the kind of man to settle in one place for long."

Sparrow nodded. "I'm certain he'll be back. After we conclude our business, he'll be free to go wherever he desires."

"And you?" he asked with curiosity. "Will you too be free?"

"Well, yes, I'll be returning home," Sparrow replied. "But one is never free from one's duties."

Karasu smiled. "Duty is a concept beyond the Pirate's grasp, as I'm certain you're aware."

Instantly, Sparrow felt something drop in the region of her stomach. "I know... he's what my house-lady would refer to as a 'free spirit'."

"An apt description, as I have never met one so free as the Pirate," the Prince agreed. "It is a freedom not meant for mortals. He can not bring himself to bear the weight of duty, or confine himself to one place. He will forever reach for that distant horizon, and only realize too late that it is just an illusion." Those peculiar eyes seemed to glimmer as he spoke, and Sparrow found herself being drawn in closer by his hypnotic beauty. "It must be a lonely existence."

Sparrow briefly touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips. "Lonely?"

"Indeed," the Prince said, holding her closer as they moved together. "While the Pirate King chases his horizon, the rest of us are tied to our respective lives. To our duties. To those who rely on us. The Pirate comes into our lives and all too soon he leaves us behind. Any woman or man brave enough to love him must eventually face losing their heart when he takes to the sea again. But he too must continue on, alone."

The very heart he spoke of gave an unpleasant tremor inside Sparrow's chest, and her eyes dropped away from the Prince's ethereal beauty of their own accord, no longer able to see it.

"I believe you are right, Karasu," she murmured, "but do not assume it is the woman being left behind."

The last notes of the song warbled in the air, and Sparrow took her leave before the Prince could say anything further.

Immediately, the Pirate was there to take her into his arms, and he found himself pleased, if surprised, when she embraced him completely. They moved together with ease as he held her securely.

"Had I realized you would miss me so much, I would have allowed him the first dance."

Sparrow lifted her head and gave him a wicked smile. "It would be foolish to tell you much I need you right now, and as I am not a fool, instead I'll suggest we bail early on the dancing."

The Pirate watched her with silent amusement, but with intense interest, then said, "And if I agree, what do you have in mind?"

"We'll quietly slip out the door and spend some time alone before we rendezvous with our crew at dawn."

His smile turned lascivious and he obligingly lead them closer to the entryway where they slipped into the shadows. A maid passed them in the hallway, and the Pirate spoke words to her that Sparrow did not understand, though she was certain she caught mention of the word 'rum'. The maid left in the opposite direction from them, and Reaver lead Sparrow to the room they were originally intended to share together.

When the Thief did not follow her inside, Sparrow looked back at him in question.

"Wait here for me," he said quietly. "If the maid arrived with the bottles, don't touch any of them, understand? I will not be long."

She was visibly confused, but the Pirate was pleased when she nodded her agreement. He did not wait any longer, but closed the door and set off back the way they had come. His instincts were superb, and he sensed a predator close by. He could only hope his tactics would lure them into taking further action. Compounded by a failed abduction attempt and the loss of a team of mercenaries, his own shameless behavior might have goaded his enemy into recklessness, if his guess was right.

As he reached the doorway of the storeroom, he heard two distinct, feminine voices talking quietly on the other side. Impatient to confront his quarry, the Thief did not stop to listen, but made his entrance, weapon already drawn.

His face was hard and cold, as though made from stone, and his former mistress froze at the sight of him, her dark eyes wide and her face bloodless. When the maid looked over her shoulder and spotted him, she gave a small squeak and dropped the large crystal decanter in her hand. It shattered on impact, and deep red rum washed over the wood floor, staining the surface.

"I knew if it was you that you would try something brash," he said coldly. "Your brother is far more subtle, and not so easy to entrap." He jerked his head at the maid and said one word in her language: "_Flee_."

When the maid had vanished through the door, the Pirate's attention turned to the tiny crystal vial in the Princess's hand. "Poison?" In a flash, the Shadows within him burned, their darkness and power consuming him in an inferno of violence and rage. "A cowardly and ultimately foolish attempt at destroying what is mine." He began to walk toward her, the dark turmoil pushing him onward, and the Princess backed away defiantly, and with no small amount of fear surfacing in her eyes.

"You are the fool if you think my dear brother didn't give the order for her to be taken alive," she hissed angrily, despite her fear. "I would have ordered them to kill her outright and be done with it, but my brother would have her for himself, and wouldn't hear of it."

In a flash, his fingers were wrapped firmly, though not tightly, around her delicate throat. The Pirate holstered his pistol and wrenched the bottle away from her clutching hands, then pulled out the stopper with his teeth. He took a brief whiff of the liquid within.

"Essence of _Aiokani_ flower," he murmured. "The flower symbolizing the Shi clan. Perhaps I should be flattered that you would choose such an exotic poison to kill us both with."

"Not you!" Koneko gasped. "Never you! I made sure the antidote was prepared perfectly and added with your food. You would not have died, I swear it!"

"I'm honored," he said scathingly.

"Who is she to you that you care so much about her?" Koneko demanded hotly. "You, the clever, heartless, pitiless Pirate King, a legend with the blood of countless men and women on your hands, are now willing to set _me_ aside for – for that other woman? Willing to _protect_ her?" The Princess scoffed. "I don't believe it! Let me do this for you," she pleaded with her wide, dark eyes. "Let me free you from her and we can be together again. Or give her to my brother and we can leave this place." Her hand came up to touch his cheek. "We can go anywhere together."

The Thief did not speak for several moments; his eyes only grew more Shadowed and desolate, and staring into them was like staring into a grave. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet, so empty and devoid of emotion, they very air surrounding them seemed to recoil from the sound.

"You need to know only one thing," he said. "Neither you, nor your brother, not even death, will take her from me. It is the only certainty I know in all this insanity. Though many may try, be they man, woman, or god, I will eliminate them."

And before she could register the dark meaning of his words, before she could so much as cry out for help, he had forced the neck of the vial into her mouth and poured the contents down her throat. Sheer terror seized her, and she kicked out, struggled, clawed at his hand with her fingernails, but her strength was no match for his as he forced the lethal substance into her body. His other hand worked the muscles in her throat, forcing her to swallow every drop, and only then did he release her, dropping her to the floor. She coughed and spluttered as the crystal vial rolled away into a corner. The poison was fast-acting, and in seconds she was fighting for breath, her body shaking and sweating profusely.

"Karasu," she gasped piteously.

The Pirate turned away from her as though brushing aside a bit of rubbish; the Prince stood serenely in the doorway, his eyes not on his dying sister, but locked with the Thief's cold gaze.

"I did try to warn her not to behave so rashly," he said placidly.

"Indeed," the Pirate said. "She became so brazen she even had a few things to say about you."

The Prince smiled coyly and played several fingers through his long hair. "Oh, really? Something about me hiring a group of gentlemen to bring your Sparrow to me in secret, I presume?"

"Something like that."

Karasu's beautiful face remained as serene as ever. "It is possible, though only a very honest and very foolish man would confess to such a deed."

"Why are you here, then? Revenge for your sister?"

"She tried to destroy what I too desire," he said. "She brought fate upon herself. No, I came to wish you luck on your journey. You will be departing early, and I have had much to drink this night."

The Pirate nodded dismissively and left the storeroom, stopping only to grab several decanters from a shelf and carry them with him.

* * *

The walk seemed to take only seconds; it was as though time no longer held any meaning. He was drawn irrevocably toward Sparrow, but the closer he got, the heavier each step became. He would return to her, with the touch of death clinging to him. He had not taken a life since taking her aboard his ship, and while he felt no remorse, he found himself unsettled over what her reaction would be.

_I_'_m pleading for you not to kill_. The words she'd spoken to save that traitor's life, what seemed like a lifetime ago, echoed in his mind again. He'd given in to her then, despite his pain and rage. Would she condemn him now?

The moment he slid the door open their eyes locked, and the Thief saw her smile dissolve into concern.

"Did something happen?" she asked, getting to her feet.

The Pirate did not answer as he slid the door shut behind him, but by the time he had set the decanters down on the bedside table, she was becoming visibly anxious.

Reaver attempted a smile. "Nothing, love. I encountered Karasu on my way back and we had a brief exchange of words."

"Karasu?" she asked. "Was he –"

"Shh," he soothed, cutting her off. "There will be no more mercenaries coming for you, I am certain of that."

Sparrow did not look completely reassured, but the Pirate did not elaborate further. Instead, he reached for her, and felt a measure of peace when she walked into the circle of his arms. He held her close, his fingers threaded through her hair as he spend several long minutes reveling in the taste and scent of her skin; with his hands and lips he rejoiced in the simple fact that she was warm and alive. He had felt the cold of death innumerable times, and the image of her lifeless and unmoving rattled him.

"You are my woman, Sparrow," he murmured close to her ear. "Nothing will harm you. I won't allow it." It was a promise. A vow.

For the next several hours, he made a sensual exploration of her, even bathing her in rum and drinking it from her quivering body. She was every bit as thorough in return, and his control nearly dissolved when she took his throbbing shaft into her soft, burning mouth. She was loving him with the same abandon he felt for her, the same eagerness. Even as he lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, she was impatient in her need to have him inside her. He gratefully relinquished control and gave himself over to the age-old ritual as wholly as she.

Hours later, with only a few hours until dawn, she fell asleep in his arms, completely drained and content. The Thief did not sleep. The dawn would come soon and they would depart. For now, he would watch over her.


	26. A Mortal Perspective

Disclaimer: I don't own Fable.

Author's Drabble: Sorry it has taken me so long to update =) Believe it or not, I actually have an original work in the making. Something I hope will make it big, so lets keep our fingers crossed, shall we? Don't worry though, this story is still just as important to me, though I am saddened to think I might have lost a few of my best reviewers with these last few chapters. Maybe some are just busy, but in my heart I am hoping all of you are still enjoying my story. As for this chapter, and the next few, I do not intent to write out every single day of travel along the road to Asaka Kagoyo. Just this first one really, to kick off this phase and close off the last. Can't wait for your feed back, and here's to hoping you love it.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

A Mortal Perspective

The mist that had drifted in from the sea overnight hung thick in the air as Sparrow and Reaver arrived at the carriage house, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. Regardless, while Sparrow loaded her rucksack and personally checked the hitching on both coaches, she repeatedly glanced up and down the road for the arrival of the crew.

"We'll have one helluva time finding our way in this soup," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone in particular, but to her surprise, a voice answered her through the fog.

"Aye, Captain, but it should burn off 'round midday."

Sparrow's eyes widened as five hulking figures and one lanky lad emerged from the mist. Immediately, she saw that four were of Reaver's crew; while she was appalled to see that young Blodwyn was among them, she temporarily brushed him aside when she recognized the final two.

"What are you doing here?" she said numbly. Sedgewick appeared both amused and a tad sheepish, while Daniels' jaw was set in a hard, defiant line. When neither man appeared fit to answer, Sparrow cast the Pirate a suspicious glance. "I though you looked too pleased with yourself. Would _this_ have anything to do with it?"

The Pirate gave a low, refined cough and offered Sparrow his most dashing smile. "Now, now, pet, it was nothing like that at all, I swear it. Your strapping sailor approached _me_ and requested service with my crew for the duration of this journey. It was all very civil and business-like." He glanced at Sedgewick. "As for the other, I am as bewildered as you. I certainly did not invite _him_ along. I'd have thought he'd be halfway back to Bloodstone by now."

Sparrow did not say a word in response, but gave Daniels a chilling look. She did not linger, however, but moved on to Sedgewick.

"And you? Have you left my service as well?"

"Never, Captain," Sedgewick said fervently, doing his best to hold back his smile. "But under the circumstances, one could say I'm knowingly disobeying a direct order."

After a moment of tense silence, Sparrow finally shook her head. "So this is how it must be. You're both grown men; if you no longer desire to be under my command, that is your right," she said, but then, in a blur, she had turned on the Pirate. "But you! What could be going through your head, bringing young Blodwyn on a journey like this! The places we're going are no place for a child!"

"Hey, I'm not a child! I'm thirteen years old!" the red-haired boy objected at once, plainly insulted.

"See, you heard the lad," Reaver promptly agreed. "You know what they say; twelve's a boy, thirteen's a man. And we'll need someone to look after the horses, keep the fire, cook the food, et cetera, and so on."

"We can take care of those things for ourselves," Sparrow said crossly, but she knew the battle was already lost. His crew were already loading onto the second coach, Blodwyn included; even if he were a member of her crew, it didn't appear she could keep them in line either.

"Don't worry so much, my pet," the Pirate said soothingly as he took her arm and guided her to the lead coach. "He is not your charge... unless you've changed your mind about that," he added hopefully.

Sparrow couldn't resist the wry smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. "I'm not Pirate Queen material," she assured him in low tones. "Really, I doubt even our tactics would suit. You'd be the one taking the ship, and I'd find ways to distract you long enough for them to escape."

She heard the Pirate chuckle behind her as she climbed into the coach, and she was immediately followed by the Pirate, Daniels, and Sedgewick.

The air in the confined space of the coach was already tense by the time it lurched into motion, setting off up the main road leading out of Keiko. Sparrow drew the curtains aside to look out, but could see little though the thick fog.

For the first few hours the coach seemed to crawl forward. Sparrow found herself pondering how much faster they would progress if she were to get out and pull the thing herself, and it took decades of cultivated patience to keep her in her seat. She knew they would take the winding trail that followed the mountain ridge curving east, but it was two long hours later before the mist dissipated enough that they could see the landscape. By then, Reaver, oblivious to the tension in the coach, had lolled into doze, his head resting on Sparrow's shoulder. Sparrow, for her part, did her best not to pay any attention to her traveling companions, but let her head fall back against the seat and watched the endless miles of trees passing by.

Around midday they stopped to stretch their legs and rest the horses, and Sparrow took the opportunity to divide out the rations. She joined Sedgewick at his lonely perch on a large, flat rock, and the Pirate joined her, looking as completely at ease as he would have taking the midday meal on his ship.

"So," Sedgewick said abruptly after five solid minutes of silence, "how long will this road take?"

Sparrow looked at the aging man sitting across from her and raised an eyebrow at his absurdly cheerful tone. "We'll take the coach service to the end of the line, a town called Riyo. I reckon it will take two weeks to loop around the eastern peaks. From there it's a two day walk south to Asaka Kagoyo."

"And from there its only a short trip by boat along an exotic mountain river before we'll be slogging around a jungle filled with all sorts of beasties and murderous foliage," the Pirate chimed in pleasantly. "Or so the brochure says."

Sparrow rolled her eyes toward Reaver, who winked shamelessly. When she returned her attention to Sedgewick, however, she saw him glancing covertly back and forth between her and the Pirate.

"Well then," she said quickly, "what orders did you leave for _The Rose_ in the event you mutinied?"

The aging warrior had the audacity to grin at her. "What gave me away?"

"The fact that you came prepared; I'll even go so far as to assume you brought your own rations in that sack."

His grin only widened. "Of course," he affirmed, then, with a grin at Reaver, "That's my Captain for you, never misses a detail."

"Cut the flattery," she snapped. "Where is my ship?"

"Very well," he said with subdued smile, "I gave the command over to the Lieutenant-Commander. If I did not return with Jack in tow, he is to follow the _Reaver II_ around the peninsula and wait for us."

It was the Pirate's turn to smile. He edged closer to Sparrow, though his sharp eyes locked on Sedgewick. "Interesting that you should know what orders I gave _my_ ship to follow in my absence."

When she fully registered what the Pirate had said, Sparrow felt a hot burning in her cheeks. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw him smiling darkly at her. "Well, at least now I know what you were up to when you disappeared so suddenly."

It was Sparrow's turn to grin sheepishly. "Yeah... so what of it? It's not like I was making plans to run home and let you get all the treasure for yourself."

"So that's how it is?" the Thief drawled flirtatiously. "You're just using me for the gold? Do you have some nefarious scheme with your Sheriff to place me under arrest and take the treasure for yourself?"

"I don't know, Captain," Sedgewick interjected seriously. "When he puts it like that, it _does_ sound like a good plan."

Sparrow stared at Sedgewick incredulously; he winked cheekily at her, and she felt a sudden rush of gratitude to her old friend.

"Now that you mention it... I would be able to afford that castle in Bowerstone," she agreed thoughtfully.

"_That_'_s_ what will make this woman happy?" the Pirate said, looking in askance at Sedgewick. "A castle?"

The warrior chuckled, and for the first time since the journey had started, Sparrow found herself laughing; though she dreaded returning to the tension of the coach, before long they had loaded up again and taken off.

They pressed on until well after sunset, and Sparrow found herself glancing at Jack more than once. His face was unreadable as he stared out through the curtains, and he did not speak even once. Hours after dark, they came across an inlet in the mountainside and decided it was the best place to rest for the night. They arranged the coaches end to end at the opening for protection, and Reaver sent the cabin boy out to collect wood for a fire.

"He can't go _alone_," Sparrow said in exasperation. "It's black as pitch, and who knows what's out there; I'll go with him."

And before the Pirate could even voice a reply, a voice behind her said, "As will I, Sir."

She recognized the voice without having to turn around, and she raised an eyebrow at the Pirate, curious for his reply. He was, after all, Jack's new commanding officer.

"Oh, very well," the Pirate said indulgently. "If you _really_ think the lad can't handle collecting a few wooden sticks in the dark."

Sparrow immediately set off after young Blodwyn before he could leave her sights, and the three of them walked in companionable silence through the dark trees. The night was so thick it was nearly impossible to see, and on impulse, as though by instinct, Sparrow called upon her Will. It came to her easily now, and a handful of crackling flames ignited in the palm of her hand.

"Amazing, ma'am," the boy breathed, his face pale-looking in the orange light. "Are you a Hero?"

"I guess I am," Sparrow said thoughtfully, looking into the flames. "You'll keep my secret, won't you?" she asked, looking earnestly into the lad's eyes.

The boy nodded vigorously, obviously eager to see more magic.

"There's a good lad," she said. "Fetch me a torch."

Blodwyn found a thick wooden stick lying on the ground and passed it to her. Sparrow ignited one end and passed it to Daniels. "Let's not dawdle."

They each began to collect an armful of dry twigs lying about the ground; Sparrow glanced surreptitiously at Daniels while they worked, but he remained silent until they began to journey back. When they were just within sight of the camp, he stopped and waited, silently motioning to Sparrow to wait with him, and they watched Blodwyn until he was safely inside the camp before he spoke.

"It 'as been a long time since I've seen yeh use yer Will," he said quietly. Sparrow did not say anything, also preferring to watch the camp and listen to the low murmurs of the awaiting crew. Then, "Are yeh truly angry with me?"

Sparrow looked at him then, bewildered for a moment; his face was unreadable. Sparrow sighed. "No... and yes," she said. "I'm furious with you both for coming along to this godless place, but I know you both mean well." She paused for a moment, then looked down at the stack of kindling in her arms. "It is heartening to know you'll be there, fighting by my side. I find myself anxious and excited to see this thing through, and at the same time, I am eager to go home. Does that make sense?"

Jack watched her thoughtfully, and then nodded. "I also wish things could go back to normal. But at the same time, I wouldn't want anything to change from how it is now."

"What... what do you mean?" Sparrow asked, perplexed.

Jack was silent as he collected his thoughts, but when he is brown eyes looked into hers, they possessed an intent that left Sparrow speechless. "When the Pirate is inevitably gone, I would prefer if we did not go back to how everything was, but instead continued forward, as Sparrw and Jack." Sparrow stared at him, stunned, but when she opened her lips to speak, having no idea what she was even going to say, he cut her off. "I know I laid a lot at yer feet back in Keiko, but it was not the rum talking. I didn't want the words te come out as brash as they did, but it was all the truth.'

"Don't answer now," he murmered. "I know yeh're not ready to. Just consider it. You do not need to return te bein' alone... Maybe I should even be thanking the Pirate. What has happened between the two of you was set in motion long before I ever entered your life, and you can only see it through to its necessary conclusion, but were it not for his interference I might very well have never told yeh what I feel in my heart." His eyes returned to hers, and she was taken aback by their gentleness. "I would prefer the next step in my life to be with yeh at my side. If I hold any place in yer heart, I ask yeh te consider it."

And with that said, Jack started back towards camp, leaving Sparrow staring after him. Sparrow stood numb and speechless for several moments before stumbling after him, and she was lost to her own thoughts as she helped Blodwyn start the fire. It would be almost an hour before it would be hot enough to cook anything, so she began the food preparations, her thoughts not on Jack, but on the inevitable conclusion of her liaison with the Pirate King. Right up until this very moment, she had known that contact with the Pirate would not continue long past her return to Bloodstone. Even if she did allow him to stay, Karasu had been right; he would eventually become restless and bored, and he would leave with or without her. In her position, she could not take off on a lark at the drop of a hat, nor could she condone the acts of piracy. She had taken an oath on becoming the Mayor of Bloodstone, and she must uphold it.

Yes, the conclusion was inevitable, but it had still shaken her to hear it said so matter-of-factly by one of her own. A man who was willing to wait for a chance at a future with her after the Pirate was finished with her. A man who confessed to such intense feelings for her without wavering.

"Could it be me that has you so preoccupied?"

Sparrow looked up from the vegetables she was adding to the stew-pot. Sedgewick watched her with a wry smile from the other side of the flames. He was the only one close by, except for Blodwyn, who was hardly paying anyone any mind as he experimented with adding new substances to the crackling flames.

"Under the circumstances, it would be preferable if you were," she murmured, turning back to the vegetables.

"You flatter this old man by saying so," the warrior said. "So what has you so bothered?"

Sparrow gave a cursory glance around the camp, then said, "That wretched Pirate, if you must know." There was no chance she was going to talk about everything Jack had confessed to her... not just yet.

Sedgewick's smile was too understanding. "Ignoring his sordid reputation, he seems like a charming fellow. _You_ certainly have taken a shine to him." Sparrow flushed, and the old warrior chuckled. "You can't fool an old dog, Sparrow."

"Old dogs should stick to minding their own business and leave adventuring to the young," Sparrow growled, but without conviction. When the aging man only grinned at her, she couldn't resist returning to gesture. "So what has you so bothered?" he asked again, now serious.

Sparrow stirred the stew-pot for several moments before answering. "It's a no-win situation with the Pirate," she admitted quietly. "And yet I keep drawing closer to him, knowing that in the not-so-distant future, we will part ways."

"Where is that written?" the old warrior asked abruptly. "Where does it say you cannot be together as a man and woman should? You may be immortals and Heroes both, but you still want and need the same things as the rest of us."

Sparrow gave her Commander a sardonic smile. "It sounds so simple when you say it like that, but in the great scheme of things, he and I are traveling two very different paths that neither of us are willing to abandon."

"You never know how those paths might cross again," Sedgewick pointed out. "You've got a very long life ahead of you. You both do. There's many places the path could take you."

"And others who would also walk it with me," she muttered before she realized what she was saying.

"It will be up to you if you continue your path alone or let someone share it with you," Sedgewick agreed. "When the time comes, you will know what is right in your heart."

Sparrow looked at her wizened friend. "Thank you, Gresham. You always try to make everything seem small and manageable."

"Nothing in life is so great that it cannot be overcome," he said happily. "As a Hero, I suspect you know this better than us all. Maybe sometimes it just takes a mortal's perspective."

Sparrow smiled. "A mortal perspective on immortality," she murmured. "Who would ever thought I would need such a thing."

"Old dogs like myself are excellent for passing on our wisdom to the young," Sedgewick said, nodding sagely.

Sparrow laughed. "I haven't thought of myself as young in a long time," she admitted, then, more soberly, "but perhaps this is just the thing."

Gresham did not ask her to elaborate, but allowed his Captain to fall back into the silence of her work. An old dog also knew that some things could only be worked out for one's self.

* * *

Sparrow took the first watch. Despite the unseasonable chill in the air and a long day of travel, she felt restless when the time came to turn in for the night. In another hour or two she would wake Bretton, who would take up her vigil until dawn, but for the moment she remained alert and silent beside the crackling fire. Several times she glanced at the still form of the sleeping Pirate, who lay closest to the fire pit with only her empty bed rolled out beside him. He had taken a quiet but firm stand on their sleeping arrangements, and Sparrow had capitulated gracefully. More than once during her vigil she had found herself longing to be curled up and warm beside him, but would then purge those images from her mind and focus solely on keeping watch.

Another half-hour passed and she heard the rustling of blankets. She turned to see the Pirate propped up on one elbow and watching her, his Shadowed eyes reflecting the flames. The effect was almost eerie, but she found herself more enthralled than frightened.

"My pet, you must be exhausted and uncomfortable sitting awake all night," he purred drowsily. "Why not come to bed?"

Sparrow shook her eyes even as a flood of warmth rushed through her. "What are you doing awake in the middle of the night?" she whispered as she pulled her cloak more tightly around her and looked back into the flames.

"I need you beside me to sleep peacefully."

Sparrow looked back into his eyes to see if he was teasing her, but they held her gaze evenly, the sincerity written on his aristocratic features.

"I'll only be another hour or so," she found herself saying softly.

"If you won't come to bed at least come sit beside me," he invited quietly, and before she'd even made the decision, Sparrow was getting to her feet and coming around the campfire. She sat down again in the crook between his waist and knees and crossed her legs, still facing the fire. Almost immediately she could feel the Pirate's fingers in her hair, mindlessly playing with the ends that pooled on the bedding beneath them.

"You have such beautiful hair."

Sparrow looked down at him in astonishment; the narcissistic Thief, paying her an honest compliment?

"Gold and fire," he murmured, bringing a lock to sensual lips. "Regal yet passionate. It suits you perfectly."

Sparrow felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. She knew he possessed a silver-tongue and could talk nearly any woman out of her skirt, but she felt pleased in spite of herself.

"I think we've passed the stage where you need to use flattery to get me into your bed, don't you?" she said softly, trying to resist a smile.

The Pirate watched the corners of her lips twitch and felt his heart skip a beat. "I never _need_ to use flattery, my love, but it is a worthy testament of my skills."

"Of course," she said, her smile now breaking through. "How silly of me."

The Pirate chuckled and sat up behind her, cradling her between his thighs and wrapping his cover around them both. "Foolish woman," he murmured softly against her ear. "Taking watch duty on a night like this."

"Someone had to do it," she whispered half-heartedly. She could already feel his warmth seeping into her; his arms were wrapped loosely around her and she pulled them closer, linking her fingers with his as she leaned into his chest.

"That's what the crew are here for," he replied adamantly, if futilely.

"And in another hour Bretton will take his turn," she said placatingly.

"An hour..." he murmured, burying his face in her soft hair. "What could we do for an hour?"

Sparrow almost grinned at the subtle purr in his voice. "Besides keeping watch, you mean? You _could_ tell me what happened when you left me waiting for you last night."

She felt him stiffed behind her, and she turned in his arms until she could see his eyes, now a swirling sapphire blue. "I can't forget that look in your eyes when you returned. Tell me what happened?"

The Pirate did not want to deny her softly spoken request; he knew instinctively she would want to know what he had done, that she would be angry if he kept the truth from her, but more than that, he found himself wanting to tell her, wanting her to know... to accept...

He looked into her emerald eyes and brought her palm up to rest over the thudding of his heart. "Be wary of what you ask, my love," he warned. "You might not like the answer."

Sparrow paused for barely a second. "Tell me."

"Koneko is dead. At my hands." He said it starkly, without embellishment, and immediately he felt Sparrow stiffen in his arms. Against his desires, he did not hold her to him, but simply waited. Waited for her rejection.

"Why?"

The question caught him off guard, and it was a moment before he could find his voice. "She meant to poison you," he admitted quietly. "I followed the maid I had sent for the wine and rum and caught her conspiring with the woman, thinking herself above my suspicions. Apparently she went so far as to slip me the antidote over dinner, to ensure I would not be poisoned with you."

Sparrow took several moments to digest these words. The woman actually would have murdered her, in the most cowardly manner possible. And, to her astonishment, the Pirate had... interceded... protected her from such tactics. "Was it she who sent those mercenaries after me?"

"She said not," the Pirate said, and Sparrow heard a clear note of skepticism in his voice. "After I sent her maid scurrying away, she claimed that after her brother failed to capture you, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She intended to take your life and become my bride. She even went so far as to beg me to gift you to her brother and run away with her. Obviously, I declined."

"But..." Sparrow swallowed. "Why did you kill her?"

Reaver drew in a harsh breath. "She meant to kill you," he said, his voice a low growl, and the Shadows in his eyes took on such a life and intensity that Sparrow was frozen in place. "She meant to take you from me, to send you to a place where I could not reach you. She had the bottle in her hand as she begged me to let her go through with it. I took it and forced every drop down her throat."

Silence followed these words. Only the soft breathing of the sleeping men and the crackling of flames filled the night. Reaver and Sparrow could only stare at one another as he held her in his arms. He had not meant to put it so harshly, but for some reason, he wanted her to know the unadulterated truth of it. Wanted her to know and accept what he as a monster was capable of. And so he waited silently, watching her guarded eyes as she processed the truth of his words.

Sparrow lost herself in the swirling Shadow's as the image he painted flashed before her eyes. The Pirate had killed Koneko... killed for her. To protect her... to keep her. He would not be able to reach her beyond the veil of death; as such, no part of him would have allowed Koneko to proceed with her plans. But, no matter how she looked at it, the Pirate had quite possibly saved her life. The poison _might_ not have killed her, her Hero blood might have been stronger, her immortality might have withstood the test, but regardless, he had taken a hand in keeping her from crossing that line between life and death. Who in her life had ever thought to do such a thing on her behalf? So many had been content to allow her to risk it all, even guided her to the very jaws of her enemy. Even she had never before considered her own mortality, and yet for this Pirate, it was of the greatest importance. "A mortal perspective..." she murmured.

The Pirate heard the words; though they made no sense to him, he did not speak. With every passing second, the longer her silence drew on, he could feel a peculiar tightening in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. But still, he waited, unaware as he did so that his hands were balled up in fists at his sides. Then, without warning, Sparrow looked into his eyes, really looked at him, and her perfect lips formed into the smallest of smiles as she aligned her body perfectly with his, fitting against him as though she belonged there.

"You saved my life," she murmured, looking up at him, her smile infectious. "I suppose that cancels out at least one attempt you've made on it yourself, wouldn't you say?"

The Pirate was stunned silent for a moment, but then the bands tightening around his heart seemed to release, and his knew a relief that he had never experienced before. "I guess I would say that," he agreed shakily, his arms enclosing around her. She allowed him to hold her even closer, content to curl up against him for the remainder of her vigil, and for the first time, the Thief knew what it was to feel truly grateful. Grateful that he could hold his woman so close, as a man, as a monster, and know that she was brave enough to embrace both halves of him.

* * *

Author's Note: Btw, I uploaded a new pic as my profile pic. It's Sparrow and Reaver ^_^ my depiction of them. I might redo it, but there you go for now.


	27. The Long Road

Disclaimer: Don't own Fable.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took so long to update. I've been working on this chapter here and there, and then I meant to take a short break, and with one thing and another, before I knew it, a whole month had passed. It just kinda snuck up on me. But now, it is my birthday this week, so I buckled down and finished this chapter for you guys. An update is my gift to you. It's not the best; I feel like I more or less squeezed this one out. But it's a "moving on" chapter, not a whole lot of action to put in it. And it's shorter than my more recent chapters, but I figure a short, so-so chapter is better than no chapter at all. Enjoy! Another chapter and we'll finally be in the last village before reaching the jungle.

And I totally screwed this up on first publish. I was so tired I didn't even realize I messed up Jack's dialect. Which, by the way, is not supposed to sound like Salty Jack, but more like a Scottish brogue. Which hasn't been easy to convey in writing.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Long Road

* * *

It was five long days and nights later that they arrived in the first settlement along their road. Sparrow had barely time to assess what supplies needed to be restocked and assign the men their various tasks before Reaver had taken her off to the town bath-house. She was more than willing to go, but only when they arrived and were welcomed inside by the proprietors did she realize the bath-house was communal. Bathing with the harem girls in Sadrhi had been one thing, but seeing both men and women mingling together in this fashion was truly a novel experience.

While the floor was paneled with wooden slats that had been polished until they shined, the steaming pools themselves were hollowed deep into the lime stone, where natural hot, bubbling water rose up from below the surface. The men and women had different entrances, and once she was submerged her body was veiled by the cloudy water. Herbal soaps were placed in crevices all around the ledge, and wooden seats had been constructed beneath the waterline. While the Pirate spoke avidly to what Sparrow assumed were old acquaintances, most of them being women, Sparrow focused instead on observing the scene around her. This particular venue appeared to service all types. There were several groups of gossiping women, families, even children swimming about, watched over closely by everyone in general.

That night they slept at a tiny inn, the only one in the small town, where the Pirate rented three stalls in the stable for his men, and the best room the proprietor had to offer for himself. After having food and spirits brought up from the kitchen, Reaver locked the door for the night, though it was many hours before he allowed Sparrow to sleep. The next dawn she awoke with dark circles under her eyes, and the Pirate experienced the smallest twinge of regret. As soon as he'd slid into the coach beside her, he pulled her against his chest and ordered her to sleep.

"I know you intended that as a request," she grumbled, trying to sound stern even as her eyes drifted shut.

The Thief only smiled and held her more securely as she curled against him.

They passed only two more villages over the next several days, and by the time they could see the town of Riyo, the end of their coach line, looming in the distance, Sparrow was too numb from traveling to even feel relieved.

The town sat within a valley, protected on both on the north and south sides by two walls that spanned the two narrowest gaps between the mountains.

"Civilization, at last," Reaver exclaimed when the wall finally loomed over them.

"As much as I hate admitting it, I concur," Sparrow sighed.

The moment they were through the gate, Reaver had a few words with the driver in Samarkish and they set off with a haste that suggested they had a destination in mind.

"Where are we going?" Sparrow asked.

"I'm acquainted with the mayor that resides here."

"Another one of your friends?" Sparrow asked archly, to which the Pirate maintained a dignified silence.

Only fifteen minutes later they had reached the center of the small city where a large manor dominated the smaller structures surrounding it. Sedgewick and Jack were the first out of the coach; Sparrow stood on the ledge, ready to hop down, but as Jack turned to offer a steadying hand, she stumbled with weariness and landed hard against his chest. His arms closed automatically to catch her, and for a moment she looked up at him, her tired eyes clouded with bemusement.

"Are ye all right?" he asked, his voice unusually low and uncertain.

Sparrow slowly nodded in a befuddled sort of way. "I'm fine," she said, nodding again as she tried to steady herself. Then, "I suppose it's been too long since I've undertaken a long journey. There was a time I could have made that trip on foot and still had the enthusiasm to take on a pack of balvarines."

"No balvarines this time, love," came the Pirate's voice from just behind her. Jack looked over her shoulder and beheld the Pirate's baleful smile. "You'll be having to make due with any beasties or brigands we might meet along the road."

He then offered Sparrow his hand, and she accepted; Jack could do nothing but join the other men as they were shown to the workmen's lodge by the house-lady.

Sparrow was hardly aware of being introduced to their host, or of anything that happened as two maids took herself and the Pirate to the bathhouse and helped them bathe. She only knew relief when she was finally able to collapse on their bed in the room they had been appointed to.

"We could stay a while," Reaver offered with a weary sigh as he sank into the soft bed beside her. "We could stay... rest..."

Sparrow gave a noncommittal shake of her head. "It might be a good idea for everyone involved."

"Bother with everyone else," the Pirate mumbled.

Sparrow smiled and yawned.

"You should appreciate your men just a bit more," she chided sleepily. "They're the ones we'll be relying on."

Reaver had a surly remark on the tip of his tongue, but before he could utter another word, he knew only darkness.

* * *

The moon was rising, and still Jack was wide awake. He kept one of the oil lamps burning as he busied himself with cleaning his gear and weapons. He worked like a machine, moving through the perfected motions while his mind was far away.

"Sharpen your blade any more and you'll wear it down to a nub."

The sailor started as Gresham's voice broke through his thoughts, and he scowled at his old mentor and friend.

"No one asked yeh," he muttered, but he put the cutlass aside all the same; he moved on to his rifle and began taking it apart, checking the condition of each piece as he cleaned it.

"It would seem your rescue plan did not go quite as expected," Sedgewick went on, undeterred.

"Neither did yers," Jack pointed out bluntly. "Yeh should 'ave talked 'er out of it."

"I'll admit it, you're right," he replied pleasantly. "Yet, you didn't either, and for roughly the same reason, I'm guessing."

"And what might that be?" Jack growled.

"Well, I might not be hopeless and in love with her like some braver fools, but all the same, she has a will about her. We both saw she was decided, and what can you say to her then? Don't go? It's too dangerous?"

"Now that yeh mention it, I'm sure I tried both of those," Jack said, now smiling, if only slightly, though he tried to conceal it.

"As the closest friends she's had in a long time, we can do no less than be supportive in her moment of insanity and try to keep her from harm."

"As much as I like blaming everythin' on the Pirate, I suppose even he can't take the fall for that." Then, almost worriedly, he sighed. "She thinks that just because she has survived everything that she will survive anything."

"I suppose it comes with the territory," Sedgewick said thoughtfully, now making himself comfortable on the empty trunk across from Jack, who was diligently putting the pieces of his rifle back together while absorbed in his own thoughts. "We can only imagine what immortality and superhuman power do to a person. We're following to protect her, but I'm certain when the time comes, she and the Pirate will be the ones facing whatever we might find in that accursed place. Mere mortals like you and I will have been left in the dust by then."

Jack fell silent for several minutes, and the Commander did nothing more than watch his friend digest this particular thought. "I would stay by 'er side until we reached the end of the world, but I can't help but wonder, will I be the one to do it?" His voice was quiet. "Will she not simply outpace me and leave me behind?"

"I think it is safe to say Sparrow is the kind of woman that would stay by the side of the man holding her heart until the very end, whatever form the end might take."

Jack nodded slowly. "But could that man be me, I wonder."

"That is up to her," Gresham said with a shrug of his shoulders.

For the first time, Jack's hands stilled in their task. "The way she looks at – _him_ – it does 'ave me thinking she's made up 'er mind. But then – then she looks at me, and I see something there. It's no more than vapor, no form, insubstantial, but more than a mirage."

"I don't think you'll know one way or the other until it comes time for her and the Pirate King to part ways."

"She claims she's set on returning home," Jack said, almost defensively.

"I have no doubt she is," Gresham said with conviction. "I could see in her eyes she meant it; she knows she will not be able to shirk her duties for much longer. The test will be if he will stay with her, and if she will let him."

Sedgewick almost smiled when he saw his friend stiffen involuntarily. Deciding he'd done more than enough for one night, he gave an exaggerated yawn. "Well, we'll likely have to start out early. Best get some sleep."

Jack watched the old man walk away with a spring in his step and finally shook his head. "Miserable ol' badger," he grumbled, "meddling like an ol' woman." He cocked the reassembled rifle, and the pieces moved together smoothly; he heard one round enter the chamber and smiled, satisfied.

The problem was, that miserable old badger had a good, solid point. One that had not occurred to him. When Sparrow spoke of going home, it was never implied that the Pirate King was apart of the picture. It should have been perfectly ludicrous, but coming from Gresham, it became the obvious. Of course the Pirate might attempt some such a tactic to keep Sparrow. Would Sparrow accept him? Into her home? Her life? Perhaps her heart? And would he actually stay with her, and live in her life?

While he seriously doubted that last possibility, the others left his gut churning. Jack put his gear away and wandered outside, desperate for fresh air to clear his mind. Despite his friend's parting advice, Jack was not destined to find sleep at all that night.

* * *

The atmosphere of the party heading south from Riyo the next morning was one of subdued wariness. After some arguing with the guard, the gate blocking the road south openen for them, its gears creaking and grinding loudly from lack of use. Beyond it was a small meadow, and beyond that, the road disappeared into the darkness of the trees.

Gresham watched his silent companions with a vague smile as they trudged onward. Everyone was on high alert; not even Reaver had ventured through this part of Shi province, and, as their host had warned them before their departure, there were no guarantees about what they could expect. As soon as they were enclosed within the trees, a hush seemed to fall over the group. The riotous cacophony of birds and animals calling to one another surrounded them, but the tone was enough to make the hair stand up on the back of a man's neck. It was as though the forest knew they weren't supposed to be there, and Reaver's men were visibly uneasy.

Sparrow reacted the way Gresham had learned to expect of her. She took the lead of the group; Jack fell into his natural role as her right-hand. Having worked together for so long, they moved as a single unit, keeping a keen lookout and always in position to protect the group, though Sedgewick noticed that Sparrow always outmaneuvered Jack as the tip of the spear, always keeping him just behind her, leaving herself the target of any attack. He considered it a credit to his friend's character that Jack was able to let her take the lead, all the while remaining on the alert, ready to fight by her side the moment trouble came.

The Pirate, on the other hand, appeared perfectly content to remain safely at the center of the circle, grumbling constantly under his breath after a mere twenty minutes of walking.

"If he's going to be like this the whole trip, I say we _should_ leave this lot behind," Jack murmured to Sparrow. They had been traveling all day, and dusk was coming; Sparrow and Jack were scouting for shelter while the fragile Pirate King rested his aching feet. "The three of us would 'ave no trouble slipping away once 'is Highness is getting 'is beauty sleep, and we could cover twice the ground on our own."

Sparrow spared him a conspirator's smile before returning her piercing gaze to the dense foliage that crowded the narrow path. "I think you're becoming more and more like a pirate yourself. What you're suggesting is mutiny; abandoning your Captain at the prospect of acquiring all the riches for ourselves. Even I would draw and quarter a man for such treachery."

"We both know where me loyalties truly lie," Jack replied complacently. "Better in our hands than in the filthy hands of pirates."

"I wouldn't be so sanctimonious if I were you," Sparrow warned shrewdly. "You never know what choices life might call upon you to make. If you think you're more human than them, you're setting yourself up for disappointment."

Jack gave her a stunned glance out of the corner of his eye. "Sympathizing with pirates?" Sparrow blushed and said nothing, but Jack pursued an answer. "Yeh order executions for pirates. Yeh don't humanize them."

Sparrow tried to shrug it off. "That doesn't mean they're not human."

She could feel Jack's thoughtful stare on her, and said, rather abruptly, "Keep your eyes on the road. We don't know what we'll find out this way. One slip-up could be the last."

Jack returned his attention to their surroundings, but his mind was still whirling. "Perhaps it is not I becoming too close to these pirates."

"Perhaps not," Sparrow said thoughtlessly, and immediately wished she could she could call back the words. "We work together. In some sense, we have had to rely on each other. And we're going to be relying on each other a lot, seeing as our lives are in each other's hands."

"Somehow, that's the part the makes me second guess the sanity of this venture."

"What? The monster-infested jungle didn't do it for you?" Sparrow asked, slashing away a few low hanging branches. They had been traveling all day, and the forest was changing. The trees became wilder-looking and grew so close together they seemed to be competing for every inch of space available. The air surrounding them carried so much moisture that her hair felt plastered to her neck as it hung down her back in completely unmanageable curls and spirals. She pushed it away, pausing to lift it and tie it high on the crown of her head; while she could hear Jack behind her at every step, keeping a sharp eye out for any threat, right now she could feel his eyes on her, caressing her slender backside.

"I'll admit, yeh almost had me at the flesh-eating flowers," Jack retorted sardonically, as though nothing was amiss; Sparrow couldn't resist sending him a grin over her shoulder to glimpse his expression. His eyes pierced hers, and she felt her heart flutter oddly in her chest. "But no," he continued, "only a pack of bloodthirsty pirates would make this a journey truly worthy for the insane."

"Each one of us in this group is more or less insane. Some drastically more than the rest." Frustrated, she glanced around, but could see nothing through the density of the trees. "It's getting dark. Avo only knows what comes out at night in this place. We have to find shelter."

"_Find_ being the operative word," Jack said, glancing around, then down at her.

"I need to see where we are," Sparrow announced, lifting herself up onto the lowest branch of the nearest tree. Jack watched her warily as she began to climb, his rifle at the ready to deal with any possible threats to her.

The climb was no challenge for Sparrow, who was finally able to glimpse a view of the world surrounding them. The trees spread for miles, but they were cradled within a wide valley that seemed to go on and on. It was difficult to see large distances; a constant mist seemed to hang in the air, hence the moisture. A drizzle even seemed to be falling in some places. Someone had forgotten to mention this part.

"It doesn't look like we're going to be getting any dryer," Sparrow called down as she began to descend, "but there's a low ridge rising to the south-east. It's not too far off. It might provide some cover."

Jack nodded, and the moment her feet touched the forest floor, she drew her weapons and they pressed further south, then cut a path into the dense trees. Very little light made it through the canopy, and the interior of the forest was cast in long shadows; the calls of birds and countless other animals became even louder and more frequent, as though calling out warning of intruders, though they never saw another living creature.

Sparrow allowed herself no fear or hesitation, marching boldly into the unknown; this was the nature of her life, and always had been. She had complete confidence in her ability to keep them both safe, and in Jack to fight at her back. They pressed on quickly but cautiously, always aware of the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky.

When they finally found the low ridge they discovered several small caverns hollowed out in the hard rock; it would be more than enough to shelter them for one night.

"Let's hurry back," Sparrow said. "We'll want to have camp set up before it gets dark."

Jack felt his heart suddenly thrum in his chest even faster when Sparrow brushed past him, and for a brief moment his fingers reached out to touch her. He immediately pulled them back, but Sparrow didn't miss a thing, and she gave him a lingering, unreadable look that left him uneasy.

Sparrow noted his uneasiness, and took an uncertain step closer to him, not even knowing her intent.

"Jack?" she whispered.

"It's nothing," he murmured, but she kept coming closer, and Jack swallowed hard. Hard as he might try to be the gentleman, the Sparrow standing before him was how he had always dreamed of her. There was no longer a wall between them. No rank. No distance. This was Sparrow in her natural state, with her hair as a wild mass down her back and her blood thrilling with the song of danger; they were quite alone, and she was coming closer to him, so close he could touch her if her wished. But no, he wasn't the Pirate, a man who would man-handle and use her to satisfy his own needs. "It's nothing," he repeated.

Sparrow heard the resolution in his voice, and for a moment, Jack thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

"Right," she said, giving her head a quick shake. "Let's get back to the others." She turned to walk away, but in a flash his hands took on a life of their own; his palms cupped her soft cheeks, and his lips brushed lightly over hers. It was all he could do to keep his touch light, giving her every chance to pull away. When she did not, his heart thrummed even faster, but neither did she embrace him, so with an effort that was almost painful, he pulled away and released her.

When he looked into her eyes, he tried not to let the confusion there effect him, but it did. She had come to him, but she was second-guessing; he knew her well enough to read it in her eyes. But _what_ was she second-guessing? What he had just done? That she had let him do it?

"We should go," he reiterated.

Sparrow nodded. Night was falling fast. Jack wasn't going anywhere.


	28. An Ominous Reminder

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable.

Author's Note: I know, my updates are getting to be fewer and fewer and less frequent, and I do apologize for that. The thing is, this is the last leg of the story, and it's important, and I would rather take my time and have it be good than put out low-quality work. I doubt any of you want that. And I DO hope this is good. I imagine there will be about 5 - 10-ish more chapters. Then comes the sequel! Then the 2nd sequel. I've even got a prequel going, about Sparrow and Rose, their life as children, becoming orphans, how they end up in Bowerstone and their life there, and then Rose's death and Sparrow's life up to her revenge on Lord Lucian. To tell you the truth, I can't wait to write about Sparrow in the Spire. Should be really intense.

Btw, as of the day after tomorrow, this story will be a year old. ^_^ Huh, maybe I should write faster.

As for this chapter, I probably could have added it on to the end of the last chapter, but honestly didn't have the inspiration to write this at the time. Please enjoy!

Warning: Adult content. Yeah, you read that right. Hasn't been any much in the last several chapters. But it just took that turn. Also, maybe the last one, unless one crops up at the end of the story. We'll see how it goes.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

An Ominous Reminder

* * *

The walk back to the others was completely silent. In part, Sparrow wanted to remain alert, but on the other hand, she was far too preoccupied by her own thoughts to explain what had just happen, either to herself or to Jack. It wasn't their first kiss; the first time had been sweet. Jack had barely brushed his lips over hers, a gentle affirmation of his feelings. But what had just happened... that had been all her... hadn't it? She had encouraged him, however subtly, and he had responded. It had been a foolish, spur-of-the-moment decision, and not even she knew what had driven her to do it.

_What am I doing_? The truth was, she didn't know. She knew in her heart that this affair with Pirate could not last, but she had never had any intention of considering what she could have with Jack before Reaver was completely out of the picture. Not only was it dishonest to them both, but it could prove to be lethal for her friend and comrade. Reaver was easily the greediest and most ruthless bastard in either Albion and Samarkand, and if he ever got the impression that another man was sniffing around his treasure, the outcome would be far worse than that night she had tried to escape with Alex. The only reason he was so tolerant of Jack was because he did not see the man as a threat, only an amusing distraction.

No, she could not take such risks. There would be plenty of time later to explore this... whatever might linger between herself and Jack, if it was anything. She would not be reckless with his life.

By the time they returned to the group, the Pirate was restless and edgy, now that it was nearing full dark and they still had not made camp. The moment he spotted Sparrow and Jack returning, however, he ceased his ranting mid-word and gave her a look so thorough that Sparrow could almost _feel_ his gaze as he scrutinized her.

"We found enough shelter for one night," Sparrow said, ignoring his bold inspection.

It took a few more minutes to get their party moving again, and when Sparrow would have taken her place at the lead, Reaver kept her by his side. She looked at him curiously, but he offered no explanation. And so they pressed on in silence, every man on high alert, going so far as to draw their weapons once they had strayed from the path and began to cut a trail through the dense trees.

While the shallow caverns could hardly be called paradise, most in the group were content simply to have someplace to lay out their bedroll and get off their feet.

"Blodwyn, would you start the fire?" Sparrow called out, getting to the business of setting up camp. As soon as the flames were hot enough, she prepared a large enough meal for all of them. Not long after that heads began to drop, and Sparrow decided it would be her night to keep watch again. However, just as she would have stood to her feet, the Pirate stopped her in her tracks.

"Daniels, you're on watch," he barked at Jack. "Bretton will switch off with you."

Sparrow frowned at him. "That's not necessary. I was going –"

The Pirate ignored her, taking her hand and leading her off to the relative privacy of their beds, which he had set up a fair distance from the others. Sparrow tried to ease herself from his firm grip, but he did not release her until they were alone. Just as she opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, he spoke.

"You look exhausted," he said gently. His blue eyes burned as intensely as sapphires as they looked into hers, but his hands were gentle as they loosened the buckles holding her armor to her. She shivered beneath his light touch, holding completely still like an animal about to be caught in a trap. "I have been neglecting you."

"What are you talking about?" Sparrow asked, resisting a flinch as her armor thudded to the ground.

"Even a pirate takes care of his woman," Reaver explained quietly, his fingers now loosening her belt and tugging out the hem of her shirt. "Makes sure she had everything she could ever want and need. Keeps her satisfied, so she never needs to go searching... elsewhere."

Sparrow immediately stiffened, but the Thief's hands were already skimming over her bare skin, tracing patterns around her waist. It felt as though he left little burns wherever he touched.

"You haven't been neglecting me," she tried to reassure him. "I'm hardier than most women. And I haven't gone searching for anything."

"You let him kiss you," Reaver stated baldly.

"Yes," Sparrow admitted quietly, not bothering with a denial. The Thief was unnaturally perceptive, and would see straight through any attempt at a lie. "It just... happened... hardly a threat. Not something that could happen again."

"No, he isn't a threat," Reaver agreed, his voice deadly quiet. Though he regarded her through half-closed eyes, Sparrow could not miss the darkness swirling within them, and despite the warmth of the night air, it sent a chill down her spine. "It would be such an easy thing to shoot him down... on the road, through trees, even with him facing me like a man."

Sparrow felt her blood freeze. Indeed, her very heart seemed to stop; at least, she could no longer feel it beating. Though she knew he was more than capable of killing without hesitation, it was like a slap across the face to hear the words fall so coldly from his lips. "You're a bastard," she hissed.

"And you're an enchantress, tempting and bewitching the men who know you," the Thief purred. "It's a potent combination; believe me, I know," he added with an arrogant smile. "But remember this: I have no intention of sharing you with another, and I will shoot dead any man who tries to take you from me."

"Mankind could build monuments to your arrogance, Pirate! It is nothing short of amazing that a man-whore of your stature would dare –"

"I'd dare anything, Sparrow, and I'd dare even more for you," he murmured, cutting her off, and the hold on her waist suddenly turned more possessive. "I do not want to cause you pain, beloved. For both our sakes, I would suggest you cool that man's ardor and not let him touch you again."

"Thank you for your _consideration_," she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sparrow's hands came up between them to shove him away, but he grasped both wrists in one hand and held them to his chest. "Do you feel it?" he asked. "My heart beats, and now it beats only for you. Is it not enough for you?"

Sparrow bit her lip, her heart fluttering even as anger burned in her blood. The action drew the Pirate's attention to her mouth, and with a low groan he descended on it, roughly pulling her close as he fused his lips with hers. Hard as she tried to struggle away, another part of her could only hold him closer, only wanted to taste him until they were both reduced to little more than burning flames.

"I hate this traveling, and with so many others," he groused when he'd finally released her lips. "It makes it so hard to have you whenever I want you." Already, he was pulling at her clothes, urging them off as fast as he could despite her efforts to keep them on.

"How is it I can let you touch me," she said breathlessly, "when you see me as little more than your possession?"

"Not just my possession," the Pirate whispered against her skin. "My desire. My love. My obsession. I want only to possess every part of you, in every way I can." He pulled her shirt off over her head, then resumed his soft caressing, raising the heat between them another notch. "And I can only possess what is already mine."

"You won't hurt him," Sparrow demanded, wanting to make that point clear above all else.

With a rumbling growl, the Pirate reached for the waist of her trousers and forced them down her slender legs, kneeling before her as he pulled them off over her boots. He meant to remove the boots last, but his hands changed course as he shaped his palms along each leather-clad calf. "You won't let him touch you," he said, just as adamantly even as his eyes traveled up over her, mesmerized by her body. "He will not have you." His nimble fingers continued up the bare skin of her thighs, and her feeble attempt to push his hands away almost amused him. She was burning for him; he could tell by her shallow, uneven breaths, by the slight tremble of her knees.

"I will protect him from you," she promised, trying to stay focused on the conversation even as her body thrilled beneath his touch.

"Do you think his touch will compare to mine?" he asked, now cupping her bottom in his hands and urging her closer until he could plant a small trail of kisses over her abdomen, then trailing his fingertips over the soft curve of her hip and down her gently rounded belly. "Did his lips leave you weak and trembling in his arms?" Instead of waiting for an answer, the Thief slid his fingers further down to caress her slick folds. He heard the slight hitch in her breathing, but still she did not yield to him. "I've barely touched you, and already you are wet and hot for me." To prove his point, his slid two fingers deep inside her, groaning as he drove them in slowly, meeting no resistance.

Sparrow did not dare breathe lest she make a sound, but when the Pirate curled both fingers and vigorously stroked that vulnerable spot inside her, a single, sharp cry rang out into the night and she was forced to catch herself on his shoulders to stay upright. Her sheathe tightened uncontrollably, her slick walls seeming to cling to his fingers; the need to fill the hallow emptiness inside her rose up sharply, almost breaking her control, and her lips parted silently, ready to beg him to fill her.

"Did he make you burn for him, my love?" he purred huskily, looking up into her eyes. "Did he make you need until nothing but him existed? _Did he_?" he demanded roughly.

Sparrow didn't trust her voice. His fingers continued their ruthless mission and her hips moved in a mindless, rocking motion, despite her attempts to appear indifferent. She hated that he could affect her this way, even when she was so infuriated by him, by his cold cruelty, his arrogance, and his need to control. She hated even more that she could not even hide it from him, as her body betrayed her.

Stubbornly, she shook her head in denial, but that wasn't enough for the Pirate.

"Tell me, Sparrow," he murmured. "Admit I'm the only one who can make you burn like this."

"That I know of," she gasped angrily.

With another growl, the Pirate removed his fingers from her, then grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto him until she was straddling his lap. Grabbing a fistful of hair in each hand, he brought her face close to his; he was rough, but he remained careful not to harm her, even as his own rising fury pushed the darkness and ugliness inside him even closer to the surface.

"Why do you fight me?" he snarled. "Why do you deny me when I give you everything?"

"Why do you hurt me?" Sparrow countered, and for the first time, there was true hurt breaking through in her voice. "Why do you threaten the life of another man just to prove your possession over me?"

The Pirate seemed to consider her for a moment before answering. "Because I can never let you go," he said quietly. "I have no desire to cause you pain, but I mean everything I have said. So long I need you, I would not hesitate to destroy him, or anyone, to keep you."

"And if you were to succeed, I would never forgive you," Sparrow promised, fixing the Pirate with a hard, guileless stare. "You cannot keep me forever, and for the rest of my long life I would hate the Pirate King with all my heart."

Sparrow could feel the tremor that coursed through him at her declaration. His eyes darkened ominously; she could almost feel the danger humming between them, just waiting to erupt into violence.

"Do not think you will escape me, Sparrow. I will have you... forever," he promised darkly. "If you deny me your love... I will accept your hatred." Then he kissed her again, holding her in place as his lips assaulted hers. "I will take what ever part of you I can get." And another kiss, this one with a more demanding, fierce edge.

But Sparrow was already lost. Her lips moved with his, her tongue danced with his. Knowing the war would not be decided this night, she conceded the battle and allowed instinct to take over, and soon they were pressed together, skin to skin, almost devouring each other in a haze of passion. Sparrow almost tore his shirt in her haste to feel his bare chest, and when he finally released himself from his trousers, took her hips in his hands and told her to hold on to him.

When he felt her hands gripping his shoulders, he thrust deep into her with an agonized groan; she enveloped him in his own form of heaven, so hot and tight around him that he simply surrendered, allowing nature to take the lead. There was little gentleness or finesse, but his woman didn't seem to mind. Sparrow's head fell back against her shoulders as she fought to hold back a series of guttural screams; when he felt her fingernails leaving deep scratches on his back, he pushed her further, slamming up into her as he forced her hips downward. Sparrow buried her face against his throat to muffle her cries, but when Reaver felt her tighten and pulse around him, it was his name that fell distinctly from her lips.

* * *

After another day's hard travel without so much as a hint of civilization, the weary group trudged out of the morning twilight and finally laid eyes on the sleepy village of Asaka Kagoyo. It was a tiny place that gave a sense of stepping back in time; as they got closer, Sparrow could see their homes were little more than tiny wooden and straw huts that spread out and away from shore of the wide river flowing alongside the town. A few people were already awake and going about their business, hitching wooden carts to work horses and leading them along the dirt paths that had been worn into the ground by countless generations going to and fro about their lives. Several of them stopped to stare at the group of travelers walking up the main path, and Sparrow noted they lacked the sophisticated edge of anyone she had met so far in this strange land. Most of them wore only a simple robe of some coarse fabric, and many of the men had long, tangled beards that resembled overgrown weeds obscuring the lower half of their weathered faces.

They were met at the center of town by an old man who appeared to be the village elder. Sparrow listened to the Thief speak to him, though she did not understand a word, and after several minutes they seemed to reach some sort of agreement. It wasn't long before they were offered food and refreshments from several families, which at least stopped Reaver's grumbling about how this place could hardly be called _civilization_. He appeared completely at ease as he partook of the food and conversation, but Sparrow found herself vaguely uneasy. Though they were welcoming enough, every man and woman seemed to be watching them carefully, and there wasn't a child in sight; Sparrow swore she could feel the weight of dozens of eyes upon them.

"They don't trust us," she muttered to Reaver when they were finally alone.

"Of course they don't," Reaver replied unconcernedly, then yawned as he kicked off his boots and began to strip off his clothes. Sparrow tried not to stare as the Thief rid himself of his garments, and averted her eyes to look around the small hut they had been offered. The original owner had died of a drowning accident over the summer, though the Pirate had glossed over the details in translation. "I doubt they see many strangers in these parts," he went on. "And I'll wager the ones who press on don't come back."

"It's more than that..." Sparrow pressed, still uneasy. "They didn't exactly seem... surprised by us unexpectedly wandering into town at the crack of dawn."

The Pirate yawned again, not in the least worried.

Their bed was a mass of animal furs layered up for comfort, but for once, the Pirate appeared too exhausted to gripe over the impoverished squalor he would be spending the night in. Sparrow watched as he sank down with an exaggerated sigh of gratitude, as though he were landing on a plush bed of feathers.

"You seem more pleasant and a lot less finicky when you're bone-tired," she commented dryly. "Perhaps I should wear you down to the bone every day. It might make you easier to contend with."

A hint of a smile lingered about his lips. "Give me a few hours to rebuild my considerable strength and I'll be happy to test that theory with you." He glanced at her from beneath his heavy lashes. "You look like you need the rest yourself."

It was a blatant invitation to join him, to curl up under the warm blankets beside him and fall asleep in his arms. For Sparrow, it seemed almost too much to resist; she had grown accustomed to his presence beside her while she slept, and waking up, surrounded by him, had established an intimacy between them that she hadn't counted on. But still, she had not forgotten their squabble from the night before last, and she forcibly stopped herself from accepting the invitation.

"It's still early morning, and I still have tasks to complete."

"You're exhausted," the Pirate pointed out. "What could you possibly need to do that can't wait until tomorrow?"

"Oh, you know, trivial things," she said airily. "Like taking inventory of food, procuring supplies, and making sure the men have been given accommodations for our stay. The kind of things that keep this little party of ours on it's feet."

"They're big boys, they can take care of themselves," Reaver said dismissively.

"I look after those who put their life on the line for me," Sparrow said, now backing out of the hut. "I'll only be a few hours. Don't wait up for me."

Reaver smirked. "Fine, then, but don't stall for too long. Once I awake you won't be getting any rest."

Once out in the cool morning air, Sparrow breathed a shaky sigh. Being the perpetual object of the Pirate King's fixation was often overwhelming, and yet his innate sensuality, a weapon he used shamelessly, left her weak-willed and eager to be close to him. Something that rattled both her confidence and her pride, and now made her feel the beginnings of shame.

It wasn't in her nature to need anyone, much less a man, and Reaver was the very worst kind. She was so inexperienced with men; in nearly forty years only a few had been brave enough to profess any feelings for her, and her brief romance with Alex when she was barely a woman didn't count for much. Reaver, on the other hand, had enough experience for both of them, and maybe a dozen others, and she often felt as he was effortlessly running circles around her, while his devastating effect on her heart and body often kept her right where he wanted her.

Sparrow tried to shake these thoughts away and set off to hunt down each of the crew. Work was what she needed. So long as she was busy, she didn't have to think too hard about him.

Each man among their crew had been offered shelter with a family until they traveled on, and after such a long journey, she had no doubt that each of them were probably looking forward to a long sleep. She did not disturb them as she found each of them, only stopping when necessary to take inventory.

While the language of money was universal, it seemed to people in this village had no need of it. The gold pieces she offered to some of the villagers were refused, and so she had to be a bit more resourceful. Eventually she traded some of the less-necessary equipment they had on hand for the very necessary food that they would need to complete their journey. Before she was finished she had bartered for a pair of small plough-ponies from an old farmer to carry some of the bulk.

It wasn't until she had left Sedgewick to his sleep that Sparrow realized she had left Jack for last, and for a brief moment, she considered not going at all. The man had barely spoken to her since that stolen kiss in the forest, and she in turn had kept her distance. He wasn't cold, but there seemed to be a gap between them that had not been there before. She couldn't be sure if it was just her and her attempts to keep him safe from Reaver, or if he was also keeping himself away from her.

Drumming up her courage, Sparrow entered the small hut when he called out for her to do so. The doorway was covered by no more than a thick, furry animal hide that had been draped across it, but inside it was pleasantly warm and dry; there was only one small room, but it looked comfortable enough, with a cot in one corner and a fire-pit in the center.

"Interesting place, isn't it?" she said conversationally, trying to break the silence between them. "But it beats sleeping outside."

Jack nodded. "We'll be right back on the trail at dawn, right?"

Sparrow offered him a commiserating smile and nodded. "If not, definitely the next. Make sure to get a good rest. We won't likely come across any friendly settlements where we're going, so we should enjoy the roof over our heads while it lasts. At least, that's what I've been telling the rest of the crew. Most of them looked ready to collapse. Or mutiny."

"I don't think there's any need te worry 'bout that," Jack said with an easy smile. "Even if any of those men _do_ 'ave a death wish, the Pirate would grant it quickly."

Sparrow flinched at his words, instantly reminded of Reaver giving her much the same message. Jack noticed and glanced at her questioningly. Sparrow, however, ignored the look and tried to veer the subject away from the Thief.

"I know you're probably exhausted too, but I'm doing some trading around town and wanted to know if you need anything."

"Rations," Jack said. "Same as everyone, methinks."

Sparrow nodded, but instead of taking her leave, she remained standing awkwardly in the doorway. She looked away from Jack, swept her gaze thrice around the room, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she looked down at the muddy toes of her boots.

"Was there something else?" Jack asked quietly, and she thought she heard a hint of concern in his voice.

Sparrow opened her mouth, closed it, cleared her throat, and tried again. "I must apologize to you... and warn you."

"Apologize?" Jack asked.

"The Pirate King is... perceptive." She glanced up, saw the slight crease between his brows, and elaborated. "He knew you had kissed me... that _I_ let you kiss me. I shouldn't have encouraged it. Of course it would put you in danger, I know, and when we spoke, he had a few words to say on the matter."

"I wasn't aware he should 'ave anythin' te say about it," Jack countered, irritated by the very thought.

"He shouldn't, but I'm not going to give him any more reason to target you," Sparrow promised, as though vowing to right a wrong she had committed against him.

Jack frowned and crossed the room, stopping a step away from her when Sparrow immediately backed away, even though they were quite alone. "Tell me yeh want out of this, Sparrow, and we'll leave this place. We'll go home. We'll be safe there."

"I fear he would only pursue us," Sparrow said repressively. "When we part ways, it must be mutual, or I will know no rest from him."

"Mutual?" Jack asked. "Yeh think he will willin'ly let yeh leave, after all this?"

Sparrow bit her lip. "I know he can be a bit unreasonable, but –"

"A bit? Yeh know he's completely mad just as well as I do," Jack said. "And if he still won't let yeh leave? What is the plan? Bring 'im back to Bloodstone? Go about yer life while turning a blind eye to his piracy? Or do yeh plan te continue on with this little game he 'as created?"

Sparrow glance into his chocolate-colored eyes; the unexpected hardness in his voice unsettled her. "What are you talking about? Of course I would not do such a thing. There is no longer a place for pirates in Bloodstone. That man cannot survive in my world any more than I can abide his."

Jack breathed a low sigh. "I understand that this cannot be easy for yeh," he went on more gently. "Know that I will still be 'ere, when it is all over."

"Be here for me now," Sparrow said, "but keep your distance. The Pirate King is ruthless, and he has already utilized what mercy he is capable of by issuing a warning. I doubt there will be a second one."

Sparrow then took her leave, her stomach churning as she returned to the hut she was to share with Reaver. She had done all she could do, and by the time she had stripped away most of her clothes and slid beneath the coverlet, she was too exhausted to think any further and opened her mind to sleep.

* * *

It was several hours later that Reaver awoke. The first thing he became aware of was Sparrow's soft body molded closely to his. He buried his face in her gleaming red hair and inhaled deeply; he then became vaguely aware of the dampness in the air, and the patter of water against the roof. He could hear nothing more beyond the rain – it was as though they were wrapped in their own warm cocoon, and nothing could touch them here.

Instead of waking her immediately as he had promised, he lifted his head and took a moment to look down at her. She slept with her back against his chest; her face was relaxed, even peaceful. These moments had become so rare lately with the constant traveling. After two weeks it simply became a matter of running on autopilot, putting one foot in front of the other. Now that he was starting to feel the full impact of it, he questioned exactly what he had been thinking when he proposed this journey. _Oh_,_ right_. _Treasure_._ And one of my brilliant ploys to keep my Sparrow from flying away_. No matter how he tried to deny it, he could not ignore what she had all but threw in his face two nights ago. Karasu had been right. She would try to flee from him again, and soon. Once they rendezvoused with their own ships, she would take to the wind and sea and sail out of his life. If he didn't stop her.

She had called him a bastard. Maybe she was right. But when those thoughts wandered idly through his mind, his heart pounded in the oddest way, as though each beat were fighting against a heavy weight in his chest. Inevitably he would wonder what would become of her after she left, and those thoughts were no better. She would likely take up with that _Jack Daniels_ who trotted so loyally at her heels, and he would gain all that Reaver had wrought in tearing away the armor that surrounded her heart. Eventually she would bear him a half-dozen little brats and they would have the perfect little family together. Sparrow would be the dotting mother and Daniels the dutiful, loving husband. The very picture of it all left a bad taste in his mouth, and so his thoughts continued on, wondering what would become of him after she was gone. He had never known another who had captured his attention so thoroughly as Sparrow. Even as he flattered and flirted with another, he kept her in his sight, just to see her glare darkly at him before feigning indifference. But still, she could only pretend for so long.

As much as she wanted to return home, Reaver knew apart of her wanted to stay. She might not admit it, not wanting to give him hope when she believed their was none, but he could feel it. _She_ could feel it, the fire between them. Why wouldn't she jump into the flames? She had to know she could trust him, that she would not burn alone. Didn't she?

Deciding to rescind his promise that she would not rest once he woke, he laid his head back down and tightened his arms around her, pulling her gently closer. In her sleep, Sparrow sighed and rolled over in his arms, resting her head against his chest, and continued to sleep.

For hours the Pirate lay thus, stroking her hair and savoring the simple pleasure of holding his woman close to the place where his heart should be.


	29. Descent

Disclaimer: I don't own Fable.

Author's Memo: I'm so happy. I gained some new readers, and I'm thrilled each of you are enjoying this story so much. I actually went back this time and reread my story. As I did, I noticed some glaring errors even in chapter one. So instead, I decided to export all my chapters and edit them while I read through them. This lead to me actually editing some parts of the story. Nothing major, plot wise, but I do think it all flows so much better now. The point of all this rambling is for me to say if you really like to read, and really like to read this story, I would recommend going back to the beginning and reading it again. Of course, right before I post the final chapter, I am going to edit it AGAIN just to make sure everything is how I want it. So if you are inclined to read it again, but don't want to do it twice, just wait until I'm completely finished, then enjoy Sparrow and Reaver all over again while I collect my thoughts and start writing the sequel.

Of course, thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I've finally worked out exactly how the ending is going to go, so now its just a matter of writing it... and you reading it. Speaking of, I'll let you get to that.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Descent

It was not until a full hour after sunrise that their group finally floated down the river away from Asaka Kagoyo. Sparrow had managed to hire three fishermen to take them on the three-day journey down the river and through the winding canyon that separated them from the untamed rain forest far to the southeast. It was the fastest way, and the safest, though that wasn't saying much; the fishermen had immediately warned her, through Reaver, that flash floods could come down the canyon at any time, putting all of them in great danger. Worst case would be at night, while they were sleeping on whatever dry land they could find. Sparrow noted these concerns and pressed on regardless, then assisted the men in coaxing the two small ponies, one chestnut and one gray, onto two of the wide log rafts, where they were sedated with herbs that would keep them docile for the journey. Once the supplies and the men were loaded, Sparrow looked about for Reaver, but he was nowhere to be found. Exasperated, she resorted to asking his first mate where he'd got off to.

Bretton smiled, showing off his golden good-looks before informing her the captain had gone into the village to hire a guide.

When Sparrow finally found him, she realized with dismay that she was too late, for he had already found his quarry.

The Pirate had his gun drawn, and kneeling at his feet were two men who were obviously pleading for their lives. She was shocked to see that one was an elderly man with white hair, and the other, a man of perhaps forty, was ostensibly his son; he kept his father behind him as he tried to reason with the Pirate King, though the old man was stubbornly trying to keep his son out of the fray.

"What do you think you're doing?" she gasped, horrified.

"Don't worry, pet, this isn't at all what it looks like," Reaver said cheerfully, an amused smile twisting his lips.

"It looks like you're holding two men at gun-point," Sparrow said.

"Oh – well, I guess I'll have to retract that statement," he said. "It's exactly what it looks like. Oh, but don't you worry, my love, I'm not going to actually shoot them... they just don't know it."

"I thought you went to hire a guide?" Sparrow asked, exasperated now.

"I did, but the old man started complaining about how _dangerous_ the forbidden rain forests are, and his son jumped in, babbling something about his daddy being told _old_ to go back there, so I thought I'd try to be a bit more convincing," Reaver explained succinctly.

Sparrow sighed. "Put that away. I'm sure we can negotiate without resorting to violence."

The Pirate shrugged and holstered his weapon. "Go on and try if you think they'll listen to you."

Sparrow looked down at the father and son, who looked gratefully relieved, and offered to help the old man to his feet. With his son's help, they got him up, and Sparrow took a moment to glance around the hut and then back at them.

"Does his son know the area we'll be going to, by any chance?" she asked.

Reaver translated her question, and the younger man shook his head.

Sparrow glanced around again, then spotted a suit of strange armor, including a horned helmet, and a sword on display in a corner of the small hut. "Is he a skilled warrior, perhaps?"

When the younger man answered affirmatively, Sparrow gave him a stern, officious look, one she would wear when addressing the greenest among her crew.

"Tell him that he may come with us, solely to protect his father, and that we will make their protection our priority. This is his only option, and I will only make the offer once. If he refuses, you may deal with the matter your way, and the old man will be coming with us regardless."

The Pirate looked pleasantly surprised. "How very _ruthless_ of you. Maybe there really is a Pirate Queen deep down beneath that veneer of goodwill."

"I've learned a thing or two about ruthlessness since boarding your ship," Sparrow said dryly. "Just don't actually kill anyone," she amended quickly. "A bloodbath isn't going to get us anywhere."

Reaver grinned and relayed her message. After a moment's deliberation between father and son, they both nodded grimly.

"Splendid!" Reaver exclaimed. "You do underestimate yourself, my love."

"Perhaps, but I'm still no pirate," Sparrow reiterated.

"Aye, but you have true potential."

Sparrow did not know if she liked that comment or not, but all the same she was happy when they finally disembarked and began their journey.

No one spoke much once they'd entered the narrow canyon. The fishermen concentrated on the river; the guide and his son maintained a stony silence; Reaver laid back languidly on the raft, having removed his shirt around midday, and basked in the sunshine while the great blazing sun was directly overhead. Sparrow remained lost in her own thoughts through much of the day. She sat on the edge of the raft with her feet dangling in the water, and watched the strange rock formations that passed them by.

For the first several hours, she was overcome by nostalgia. This was not her first ride on a log raft such as this. What felt like lifetimes ago, she had taken a very similar journey on a very different river, when she was still a small child and had taken for granted that Rose would always be there to keep her safe. When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear her sister's voice on the light breeze, telling her they'd get to Bowerstone soon and they would have a new life there, not to be afraid...

"What are you thinking?" came a soft voice from beside her.

Sparrow's eyes snapped open, and she saw Reaver beside her, watching her curiously.

"Nothing important," she said dismissively, but the Pirate did not look convinced. "I was thinking about the first time took a trip down river on a raft. It was the first time we had ever left our home, my sister and I."

"You were by yourselves," the Thief said shrewdly.

Sparrow nodded. "Our parents were dead, though I had no idea for a long time... she told me we would find them there, in Bowerstone. Or they would find us."

"She hid it from you?"

Sparrow nodded again, and looked down at the water. "I guess she was only trying to protect me. She was dead before I could find it in my heart to forgive her."

They said nothing more, but Sparrow was simply relieved that he had listened without asking for painful details. He made no cruel comments, no judgements, nor did he offer her pity. He was simply there, always arrogant and completely confident of his place in the world. They were so much alike, and so different... so well suited for each other... _if only_...

Sparrow halted that thought, not quite allowing herself to dream of what could be.

At night they made camp on a narrow strip of land at the side of the river; the great, rocky walls of the canyon stood hundreds of feet high now, painted in wide stripes of coral, pink, white, and gold, and only a small strip of starry sky was visible above them. Most of the men were on edge over the closed in space. Should the river flood, they would be trapped, and any man too slow to reach the raft could easily be swept away and drowned. Even Sparrow had a hard time sleeping, and always kept one ear out for every sound that echoed off the high canyon walls.

By the end of the second day, Sparrow noticed the current of the river, once gentle and lulling, was now gaining in speed and strength. Through Reaver, she consulted their guide, the old man who now identified himself as Mister Misagi.

"The old coot says there is a waterfall some miles down the stream, but we will reach the other side of this canyon well before hand and carry on over land."

And true to his word, just before high noon the next day, they canyon walls ended, opening up to the sky and revealing to them a world unlike any of them had ever seen. They stood high atop a plateau, and barely half a mile downstream the land dropped away into a wide valley that stretched on as far as the eye could see. Far off on the distant horizon, obscured by low-hanging clouds, was what looked like a lone mountain standing in the midst of a sea of trees.

Misagi started to speak, gesturing at the lone mountain.

"He says that is our destination, according to the map," Reaver said. "We must follow the river south-eastward, and something about deadly fauna and some 'Rodents of Unusual Size'... et cetera.."

Sparrow nodded at the old man, then directed the crew to start loading the ponies with their gear. After a quick conversation with the fishermen, they agreed to return for them in a couple of weeks, and once again two weeks later. And then the rafts headed back up the river the way they had come, and their group was making their way into the unfamiliar rain forest.

Though she had never seen anyplace like it, Sparrow had always thought the interior of these legendary forests would be much quieter. They hugged the river closely, not taking the unnecessary risk of straying, but the noise from the canopy that rose from the canopy in the valley bellow was near deafening, and more than a little frightening. Sparrow's senses were heightened by the adrenaline pulsing in her veins; she could make out the high-pitched cries of birds calling out warning of intruders, she could hear the lower grunts of mammals, and then the shrill shrieking of something she wasn't particularly sure she wanted to identify.

Sparrow sidled closer to Reaver and whispered, "Have you ever seen the like of it?"

The Pirate shook his head. "Not in all my considerable travels. I've heard rumors of course. Keep your eyes out for something that looks like a small man, but is covered his hair, has enormous teeth, and walks on all fours."

"Tell me you're joking," Sparrow said.

"That is what I was told," Reaver said, then grinned twistedly. "If we manage to catch one, I imagine it would sell for a fair sum."

"Unless it is particularly vicious and proves too dangerous to capture alive," Sparrow replied grimly.

"A few men might lose a few fingers, or limbs, but the gold will be sure to balance out any losses," he said pleasantly.

Sparrow gave him a look of mock exasperation. "How reliably cut-throat of you."

The Pirate remained completely unrepentant. "We _are_ pirates, aren't we?" he said. When she didn't respond, he added, "I'll split the profits with you."

Sparrow was about to huff and walk away, but before she could make another sound, a shrill, unearthly roar echoed off the canopy, and as one, the group fell completely silent and still, as though too frightened to even breathe.

"What was that?" Blodwyn finally murmured in a terrified whisper.

Immediately, Mister Misagi answered, needing no translation, and when he'd finished, everyone looked from him to Reaver, the only one who appeared supremely unconcerned.

"Something about some great, scaley beastie of legend," the Pirate said in a dismissive tone. "And we're not getting any closer to the treasure by standing around here like a bunch of frightened ninnies." And he continued on. When the others still did not move, he called back, "Don't be afraid, whatever beastie might be unfortunate to find us will soon wish it hadn't."

The rest had no choice but to follow.

* * *

In less than half an hour they had reached the waterfall. It fell straight down for over one-hundred feet and crashed against what looked like jagged rocks jutting out from the frothy white water.

Sparrow crouched low on the ledge of the cliff that overlooked the lush valley below. The rock was mostly sheer all the way down, but when the old guide joined her, he pointed out a steep path that wove its way down the cliff-face.

"I don't like it," she told Reaver in a low voice. "It'll be a miracle if we manage to get everyone, including the animals, down that path without anyone falling to their death."

The Pirate did not seem to share her concerns. "Bretton had muscle enough to manage them."

Sparrow sighed. "Fine. I'll lead one, he'll lead the other. Misagi can lead the men."

The procession was slow, and more than one man was forced to scramble for their footing on the brittle path. Sparrow split them into teams, and Reaver, Misagi, his son, Hirohotu, and two of Reaver's crew went down first. She and the remaining crew watched their every move as they slowly descended – with the exception of Reaver, who nearly scaled straight down the cliff as he easily took the most direct routes – and once they'd passed the halfway point, she sent Gresham and Jack, to whom she entrusted the safety of young Blodwyn. Jack lagged behind, offering his help to Sparrow with the gray pony, but she sent him on his way. Sparrow watched them descend with anxiety clearly written on her face, but Sedgewick remained spry for an old man, and Blodwyn had the reflexes of youth to rely on; all made it to the bottom without mishap.

Now Bretton, holding the reign of the chestnut, and Sparrow were the only ones remaining to make the climb. She looked at him anxiously, but was reassured by the sheer size of the golden-toned giant. He looked like he could carry the beast over his shoulders if it came to that, so she waved for him to go on ahead of her and waited anxiously while he lead the creature down the path.

Sparrow waited until he was halfway down, then gently patted the gray and stroked its soft muzzle.

"Come on, girl," she murmured soothingly. The pony's ears twitched at the sound of her voice, and Sparrow slid her hand calmly over its muzzle while she gathered her wits. "It's our turn now."

Gently, she urged the animal forward, and together they took their first cautious steps down the narrow path. The gray followed her willingly, occasionally quivering nervously, but Sparrow soothed her has as she would have her dog, and the gray remained docile despite its fear.

By the time Sparrow and Bretton had safely lead their charges to the solid ground where the others waited for them, the sun was sinking in the sky. The whole process had taken most of the afternoon, and they would need to find someplace to take shelter before dusk.

After tossing the reigns into Blodwyn's hands, Sparrow found herself face to face with Reaver, who was smiling avidly at her. "I'm relieved you made the climb unharmed, love."

Sparrow smirked. "I noticed you didn't make any offer to help."

"Of course, but if I stayed, who would be down here to catch you if you fell?" he asked innocently.

Sparrow was about to reply, but then realized as the Hero of Skill, he could easily have caught her out of the air. Blushing at the image that created, she looked away and went to bring the company to order. It was nearing darkness, and it might take hours to find shelter.

As she swept her eyes over the men, she frowned, sensing one was missing, and when she glanced over them again, more slowly, her eyes sought Sedgewick's in alarm. "Where's Jack?"

Gresham cleared his throat delicately and answered in low tones. "It seems his _captain_ has sent him off to scout for shelter."

"Alone?" Sparrow hissed. "Which way did he go?"

Gresham pointed south along the ridge they had just climbed down.

"Why was he sent off alone?" Sparrow asked sharply, slinging off her pack and tossing it to him. She drew her gun. "Never mind, someone can explain this incompetence when I find him alive."

She turned to head off in the direction Gresham had indicated, but before she could take a step, she found herself face to face with Reaver.

"Darling, why not rest and catch your breath –"

Sparrow cut him off. "I'm not ready to hear what you have to say for yourself," she all but growled at him. "But if this is apart of some brilliant plan to get him killed –"

"Such accusations, my sweet," Reaver purred. "He is an able warrior, is he not? He assured me he could handle the task by himself."

"Let me _assure_ you," Sparrow said furiously as she brushed past him, "that if he does not leave this accursed place alive, neither will _you_."

She did not need to see the look he gave her; it was enough that she felt the darkness rise within him, as though she were in tune with it. She could feel it reach for her, but she continued to walk away without a backward glance.

Inside the canopy, the trees were dense and it became difficult to see clearly in any direction. There was, however, a clear set of footprints sunk deep into the damp earth, walking away in the very direction Sedgewick had indicated. Sparrow followed them quickly, gliding quietly between the trees and the sharp edges of the cliff-face, but ten minutes later she still had not caught up with him. Her heart was pounding with anxiety, but she resisted the foolish urge to call out.

The footprints remained steady and solid, meaning he was traveling light and maintained roughly the same pace. She couldn't have passed him by – the tracks never strayed. Almost desperately she picked up her pace... if anything happened...

Suddenly, Sparrow burst through some tall shrubbery and collided with something hard.

Jack Daniels felt something crash into him, but saw nothing but a blur of red and green before he was knocked back several steps. When he regained his balance, he saw Sparrow standing before him with a look of anxiety marring her face.

"Jack!" she said, giving him a quick but thorough glance to ensure he was not harmed. Jack noted she was visibly relieved. "I've been looking for you. I thought something could have" – she cut herself off, and in a split second, her relief vanished and very real anger replaced it. She pinned Jack with a fierce glare. "What exactly possessed you to go scouting alone in such a hostile place?" she hissed.

Jack made an attempt at looking contrite, but the corners of his lips still twitched occasionally. "Time was of the essence, I could cover more ground by meself –"

"Don't give me that, and wipe that smirk off your face," she snapped, her temper escalating. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not exactly in Wraithmarsh anymore. _No one_ is to go wandering off alone for any reason –"

Jack looked abashed, but Sparrow couldn't quite miss that look of satisfaction.

"What has you so pleased with yourself?" she grumbled.

"Yeh're right, o'course, and can only offer me apologies. But yeh needn't 'ave worried about me, Sparrow... though it makes me happy yeh did."

Sparrow fell silent for a moment, then she collected herself. "Of course I was worried. I didn't want you here to begin with. For this reason. Anything could happen out here." She looked around as though to emphasize her point. "And if anything happened to you..." She let her words trail off then cleared her throat. "Don't go taking off alone again, no matter what. Even if your c_aptain_ orders you to. I already promised him he wouldn't leave this place alive if you didn't, and he'll be a lethal enemy if I decide to keep that promise."

Jack laughed at that; the sound echoed off the trees around them. Sparrow couldn't resist smiling in response.

"So, you were sent out to find shelter, I was told. Do you have anything to show for it?" she asked.

Sparrow saw him open his mouth to answer, but at that moment, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she pivoted on the spot, bringing her _Nightwatch_ up in one motion. A blur of something massive and vicious was coming at her so fast the most she managed was to bring her elbow up to protect herself. The force of the impact knocked her to the ground, but thankfully the creature rolled off her. She desperately tried to assemble her wits as she scrambled to her feet, knowing her attacker would be back for more.

She got to her knees, then looked up and got a full view of the animal. It was roughly the same size as her dog had been, but looked absolutely nothing like a dog. It was mostly hairless, and covered in bulging, padded muscles that rippled beneath its dark, scaly skin. A long, rodent-like muzzle held rows of jagged teeth, and saliva hung from its snarling lips in thick, quivering ropes. The animal was already gathering itself for another charge; Sparrow was ready. As it lunged toward her, its clawed feet kicking up dirt as it charged her, Sparrow aimed and squeezed off one shot. The discharge of the high-powered pistol sent ribbons of pain shooting up and down her arm, and she watched as the ball of lead swerved slightly off course and embedded itself in the animal's leg, nearly tearing it off at such close range. It fell to the ground, crying out in rage and anguish, but when Sparrow would have ended its suffering, she found her fingers would not respond to her commands.

"Finish it," she said to Jack, then turned away and clutched her hand to her chest. Behind her, she heard the deafening report of a rifle, then complete silence. Even the animals of the forest seemed to have gone ominously quiet.

Sparrow took several steadying breaths, then glance down at her arm and saw immediately that the unfortunate animal had left its mark. The upper sleeve of her shirt was shredded, and the forest-green material was already soaked deep red with blood. Gently placing her fingertips over the spot a few inches above her elbow, she counted three deep, wide gashes arcing around the back of her arm.

"Capt'n?"

She heard the concern in his voice without even looking at him. Sparrow put on a brave face and turned about. "It's just a flesh wound," she said reassuringly. "It'll have to wait until we set up camp."

"Let me 'ave a look," Jack said severely. "I can field dress it. Should help keep infection out until we can stitch it up."

Sparrow wanted to refuse out of sheer pride, but common sense told her he was right. This place was warm and damp, and she knew from experience such conditions would help even a minor wound fester.

"Fine, but lets be quick," Sparrow said, already unbuckling her tan leather vest. "And stay alert, there could always be more." Even as she said it, she switched her pistol to her left hand and seated herself on a rocky perch, her back to the cliff and with a clear view of the trees surrounding them.

Jack did indeed work quickly, but remained as gentle as possible as he first helped her pull her arm out of its blood-soaked sleeve. Guilt churned in his gut as he caught sight of the angry wounds she had sustained. Three long, ugly scratches marred her sun-kissed skin, and blood flowed freely down to her fingertips.

"These'll definitely need stitches," he affirmed softly, but all he could do for the moment was wrap it securely to hinder the bleeding and keep out dirt. They had no bandages on hand, so Sparrow sacrificed the other sleeve of her ruined shirt, tearing it off at the shoulder, then shredding it into several long strips. He disinfected the wound and the bandages with liquor from his flask, and his large hands were almost reverent as he bound the wound quietly and efficiently. Sparrow tensed in pain as the alchohol made contact with her fresh wound, but did her best not to utter a sound.

"I feel like a selfish bastard," he admitted softly. "If I had been thinkin' sense when I left the camp, yeh wouldna be injured now."

Sparrow grinned feebly over her shoulder. "Don't make such a fuss over it. It's already bad enough, having my tail shaved out here on day one."

Jack returned her smile only half-heartedly. He knew her pride wasn't the only thing hurting, so he finished up his task quickly. "If I'm honest with meself, I wanted to know if yeh'd come fer me."

He saw her back stiffen and placed one hand over her bare shoulder. "I wanted _him_ to know yeh would," he clarified. "It was selfish and petty, and I'm sorry this happened cause of me."

Sparrow relaxed, was silent for a moment, then chuckled. "I think there's a lot of selfishness and petty behavior going around." Then she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Don't feel like you have to justify it, and don't blame this" – she jerked her injured arm – "on yourself either. The beast could have been stalking me. It was my responsibility to pay attention to my surroundings." He did not look any happier, and she softened her tone. "You're a good man, Jack. Of course I'd come after you."

Jack stood abruptly, and Sparrow instinctively brought up her pistol. She lowered it immediately when she saw Gresham emerge from the foliage, gradually followed by the rest of their company moments later.

"We heard gunfire," Gresham said immediately.

"We bagged dinner," Jack replied evenly, walking over to the freshly killed animal a few feet away. "And I found shelter just a way onward. Doesna look like anything had lived in there fer a year or more."

"That's – goodness, Sparrow, what happened?"

Sparrow winced as he drew attetion to her arm. "Nothing you won't be able to fix up once we've made camp," she said calmly, but her eyes locked with the Pirate's as she spoke, and Sparrow was instantly reminded of the words she'd hurled at him as she raced after Jack. His guarded eyes traveled first over her face, then down her bare shoulder to the strips of cloth covered in dark stains, and the blood drying down her arm.

Coming to her, Reaver offered her his hand. She hesitated a moment before accepting, and then she was being pulled deftly to her feet. The Pirate stood too close, and she was forced to land against his chest. He wrapped his other hand gently around her injured arm and softly murmured, "Are you hurt very badly?"

Sparrow was aware that the crew were already following Jack to shelter, so she waited until they were just out of earshot, then looked up into his eyes. They were dark; closed and guarded against her. Her last words to him at the river had been angry and heartless, but still Sparrow would not recant them. Somebody had to stand up to this Pirate... it was just more difficult when he held her like this...

"It's only a few scratches," she replied. "Sheriff Sedgewick has had extensive training in basic healing. He'll have me stitched up and good as new."

Reaver's hand hovered over the wound. "You should not have taken off so recklessly."

"You must have known I would go after him," Sparrow said coolly. When he did not reply, she added, "You just though I would be too late."

"There was a chance," Reaver conceded, but barely.

Sparrow shook her head ruefully. "I will yield much to you, but when it comes to my men, my home, my people, I will risk more than a few scratches to keep them safe. Do not do something like this again."

"Would you risk the same to keep me from harm?" he asked suddenly.

Sparrow was stunned by the question. "I wasn't aware of anything that could harm you."

The Pirate chuckled indulgently before he could stop himself, and a tiny bit of the guard dropped from his eyes. "If something existed that could, would you do everything you could to keep me safe?" he asked seriously.

Sparrow did not answer immediately. _Would_ she protect him? According to the very same laws she vowed to uphold, this man deserved to be hung many times over for his crimes. Could she protect a monster purely because of her own personal feelings? Would she even be able to pass judgement on him, if she had to?

"Your life, it is important to me," she admitted, almost shamefaced over the confession. "You're a liar, a scoundrel, and a murderer... a monster. But knowing you're alive and warm makes me happy. I don't know how I could stand by and let you suffer, or let your life end." Sparrow shook her head, knowing she'd said too much. "But what does it matter. Who could hurt you, immortal King of Pirates?" she asked with an attempt at a smile.

He looked earnestly into her eyes and whispered, "You could."

Sparrow's heart seemed to stop. She fell silent and gave him a thorough look; he seemed thoughtful and sincere, but it was almost too absurd to believe he'd actually spoken the words. This man, more than a man really, seemed unyielding – invincible. Even when Jack had named her as Reaver's one weakness, she'd never been able to truly believe it. "How?"

The Pirate did not even flinch away from the question. He brought up his hand to take hers. "When you finally accept that you too love me, you'll know the answer."

* * *

Once they had rejoined with the crew, Sparrow wanted to help set up camp, but Reaver immediately dragged her away from the other men and had her sit. He then walked away without a word, but came back moments later with a trauma kit and a bottle of Yellow Fairy.

Sparrow gulped.

"Gresham will care for my wounds, if you don't mind," she said, trying to sound stern.

"I do mind, it is my place to care for you," he replied complacently, seating himself comfortably behind her where he could access the injury. "In the end, it is my fault," he admitted, but in such a tone it implied he was giving her a treat after she had misbehaved. She glared at him as he unwrapped the cloth wrapped around the injury, and the Pirate felt a tightening in his chest when he saw the angry red cuts. He barely understood his reasoning, but the sight of her flesh mauled this way filled him with a cold rage that he could barely hide beneath the surface. He, who had both seen and caused injury much more gruesome than this...

He thoroughly cleaned the gashes, then poured Yellow Fairy directly onto the wound to disinfect it. Sparrow's whole body arched in pain, and a cacophony of rather crude expletives echoed off the cavern walls.

"Darling, I do believe your salty language has some of the crew blushing," he commented dryly.

Sparrow immediately cut the string of curses that was pouring gratuitously from her lips. "You could have warned me to brace myself," she gasped, her face as white as a sheet.

"Perhaps I will encourage you to think twice about running off into the trees and getting mauled by some ugly beastie," he said coldly, but then he offered Sparrow the bottle. "Drink some of this," he ordered gently. "It'll take the edge off."

At first, Sparrow tried to refuse, but as he began to stitch the seams of her skin back together, she took several tentative drinks until it felt slightly less like the sawing of a dull blade. Reaver made tiny, careful stitches, more precise than any surgeon she'd ever employed, and she glanced as best she could at his handwork. "I'm impressed."

"Try not to sound so surprised," he said with a small chuckle as he put the needle away.

Sparrow smiled a little sheepishly. "I mean it. Really." When he didn't look convinced, she added playfully, "So what's the secret? Done a lot of embroidery in your life?"

Reaver suddenly went still, then looked at her strangely, as though weighing some decision in his mind. After a moment, he suddenly looked away, and said as though it were of no importance, "My father was a tailor."

Sparrow didn't speak, surprised by this sudden piece of his past, but the longer she couldn't say anything, the more he looked like he regretted admitting it; Sparrow did her best to smile. "That explains one thing, at least."

Reaver could see her smile from the corner of his eye, and risked taking the bait. "What's that?"

"Why you're such a connoisseur of fashion," Sparrow said, as though it were the obvious. "I've never met a man with so many clothes. Do you make them yourself?"

"Absolutely not," Reaver denied, mildly affronted at the idea. "I simply made the designs, and hired however many seamstresses and tailors it took to make them right."

Sparrow shook her head, but was pleased to see his good humor restored.

Once he had bound her arm up again, she helped the men finish setting up camp, as well as equipping defensible positions within the cavern. They had canvas for tents in the event that no shelter could be found, but in here they used them to create small partitions for privacy, and while hygiene was not a common concern among pirates, some among the crew did take a chance to bathe with some water that had been brought from the river and boiled. While the hot water was relaxing, and it did make a definite improvement on the general smell of the group at large, more than one pirate continued about their duties more than half-naked in a vain attempt to dry in the damp air. Sparrow tactfully kept her eyes downcast while she prepared the animal she and Jack had killed for their dinner.

That night, she slept peacefully beside the Pirate, who had refused the very notion of her taking watch that night on account of her injury.

"It's just a _scratch_," she protested heatedly, embarrassed to be coddled in front of both his men and hers. "It'll be completely healed before the sun sets tomorrow."

"And it will heal all the faster if you rest tonight," Reaver said officiously, and when he called upon Sedgewick's expertise on the healing arts to back his claim, the Sheriff did so with the air of a man enjoying the havoc.

"You're not even a real doctor!" Sparrow snapped, but she knew she was beaten for the moment.

As Reaver and Sparrow lay down to sleep long after dark, they both did away with most of their clothing; even the night was damp and hot, and they kept a few inches between them and their weapons close, with only their hands touching as they closed their eyes and listened to the night creatures that came to life in the forest as the moon rose. The sound was strangely comforting, and lulled them into a half-sleep, where thoughts tend to run wild and unchecked. They both thought of his confession that she could hurt him. They both considered the possibility that, if the opportunity arose, she would protect him in spite of her beliefs and responsibilities. They both thought of Jack, sleeping only feet away, and he also thought of them, laying only a heartbeat apart from each other. He even allowed himself to envision a time when he might finally be with his love in the same way.

It was with gratitude that they each descended into sleep and their own private dreams.

* * *

Author's Note: BTW, geekybeeks recommended the song Surrender by Evanescence as a song for this fic. I absolutley agree. Please listen to it if you're so inclined.


	30. Instinct

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable 1, 2, or 3, or any Fables that may follow.

Author's Note: thank you everyone for your words of encouragement. It keeps my spirits up, and that means a lot to me right now. And to update you on how I'm doing, I'm still trying to get in to see a cardiologist. Unfortunately, if you don't have health insurance or money, it takes several jumps through flaming hoops to get in to see a cardiologist. I've got my recommendation from a doctor, but right now I'm just trying to get on some program called CopaCare that will pay for it. It's all very frustrating. My heart is doing slightly better, though it's still not working quite right. Anyway, I started writing a bit to help keep my mind busy and keeps me from worrying myself sick. Since I'm pretty much stuck in the house, and because writing is my life, in some ways this story all I've got right now. Anyway, I finally eeked out this chapter, and I just hope it reaches the standard that I strive to offer you with each chapter. It's pretty important and key to the plot. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Thirty

Instinct

Three days and nights had passed since they had first entered the rainforest. Three long, sore, humid days. Sparrow's hair was plastered to her face and neck, and on occasion she found herself wondering if she would ever be properly dry again. Not that she minded. Unlike the crew, who complained incessantly about the bugs, the humidity, and the complete lack of visibility due to the dense forest that seemed to press in on them, Sparrow had found herself gradually adapting to the strangeness of their surroundings. She used every means she could find to protect the crew and carry out their mission, utilizing the foliage for cover when she went hunting for their next meal, or climbing up the enormous trees into a crowded network of branches that allowed her to scout ahead more efficiently and effectively. Even the high-pitched shrieks of unidentifiable beasts no longer made her anxious or fearful. The beasts and noises of the forest had become as commonplace as the ocean waves that beat against the shore of Bloodstone. This land no longer felt so foreign and strange... indeed, she felt oddly at home here. It was almost as though it called to her, aided her, even welcomed her. Her sharply-honed warrior instincts felt heightened above what she'd ever thought possible, making her increasingly aware of every movement in the trees surrounding them.

The animals of the forest had ceased their cries of alarm now that they had been here for several days, but Sparrow thought she could hear other things in the constant chatter – the frightened cry of prey being taken down; the frustrated grunts of predators that had been detected before they could pick off one among a pack; even what sounded, to her, like the joyful greeting of each new dawn from the creatures that had managed to survive the long, dangerous night.

For the men, however, it was a very different story. As career pirates, most of them had little to no experience traversing through dense, sprawling forests; they were used to clear, wide-open spaces with the endless sky splayed above them. The encroaching trees, combined with the oppressive humidity, the constant chatter of animals, and the steady pitter-patter of rain that never seemed to let up had more than one man ready to turn tail and bolt. Sparrow suspected it was only their fear of Reaver that kept them in their place, though she wondered how long that would last. Every man had his breaking point, and the last thing they needed was for one of them to snap and set off a chain reaction. In this dangerous, unforgiving place, anarchy and chaos could prove lethal for all of them.

To avoid this, Sparrow began to take the duties of scouting and hunting solely upon herself, as well as keeping watch for most of the night so the men wouldn't have exhaustion wearing them down and enhancing their fear of the unknown. By the second day she had also taken to looking after them, reminding them to check themselves for even minor cuts and scrapes at least thrice a day, and to remove their boots at the end of each day and inspect their feet for infection and fungi. At first they merely gave her insolent glares, but after she warned them that their very feet could rot off, and Reaver subsequently promised to shoot dead anyone who held them up as a result of foot-rot, they reluctantly followed her orders.

Tired though she admittedly was, Sparrow felt strangely invigorated as the days dragged on, and she met the challenges that confronted them with a sure step and steady aim.

On the fourth day they broke camp at dawn, but as they continued deeper into the forest, Sparrow began to feel a distinct uneasiness. Her senses were on full alert, picking up even the slightest movement or sound. The cries of the animals had changed again; to Sparrow's ears, it almost sounded as though their every movement was being watched and reported. She knew it was an insane notion, but one she couldn't escape; the feeling of eyes watching them followed her everywhere. She even thought she'd seen movement through the trees and in the canopy above, but after a brief internal struggle, she decided not to share her misgivings. She didn't want to alarm the crew until she had something to substantiate her 'feelings'.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sparrow glanced at the only pirate who, quite uncharacteristically, had hardly uttered a single complaint since their decent into the forest.

Reaver maintained a steady, unfaltering pace as they trooped through the mud and soggy vegetation, and had hardly spoken a word since the incident on their first day in the forest. He didn't seem to be brooding, but not for the first time his face was set in a hard mask that made it difficult to gauge his thoughts. He drove them all onward like a man possessed, fueled by an unrelenting determination. The crew generally assumed it was the result of the Thief's greed for riches. What Reaver wanted, Reaver would get, and may Avo and his Light help anyone or anything that held him back or got in his way.

As the men were too afraid to complain to him directly, Sparrow was the only one who had the nerve to speak to him.

"You're driving the men to their limit!" she'd warned him the day before. "Keep on like this, and we may well end up with no one left."

To everyone's stunned surprise, the Pirate King heeded her words and slowed their pace, if only a little.

Sparrow held her own council as she kept watch for danger, but when they finally made camp on the fifth night, she set up the canvas and bedroll she shared with the Pirate a short distance away from the others. When they were finally sheltered from the rain, they stripped and bathed each other in complete silence. As Sparrow felt his muscles relax under the steaming, wet cloth she was using to scour away the day's sweat and grime, she tentatively questioned his motive to blaze though the forest as fast as possible.

"I don't feel like myself here," he confessed quietly, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful. "I've never been anyplace like this... never felt like this. If I just focus on the destination..." he trailed off vaguely, and Sparrow did not press him further. Instead she let him lead her back to their pallet, where he loved her almost desperately with his body, then sank into an exhausted sleep. Sparrow watched him for several moments, unaware of the tenderness written on her face, then redress in fresh clothes and left the tent to take over watch duty.

The rain began to fall even harder that night, and by the time they were ready to depart the next morning the river was starting to overrun its banks, forcing them further inland and onto higher ground. By noon, the river was roaring, its waters white and turbulent, and still the rain fell harder.

"Isn't there another way?" Sparrow shouted so both Reaver and Mister Misagi could hear her over the water. The old man answered her through the Pirate, looking grim as he spoke.

"He says we can depart from the river now, but that would require cutting through the field of the _hydraetsu_ flowers." Reaver frowned even as he spoke them name of the field, then asked Misagi another question. "What utter nonsense," he scoffed when Misagi had answered, and he walked away without another word. Sparrow trailed after him, urging him to elaborate.

"He's just spouting old wive's tales," the Pirate said derisively. "We will want to move quickly if we are to reach the field and pass through before dark."

Though Sparrow tried to get him to elaborate, Reaver avoided answering her questions as he went about barking orders at the crew to get them moving. Before she could get any further details, they were leaving the flooded river behind and cutting their way through the thick foliage, and the roar of the river grew slightly fainter.

Sparrow held her saber and _Nightwatch_ close as they ventured deeper into the unknown, her heart racing as though fleeing a predator, and the company seemed to draw even closer together, as though afraid the forest would claim stragglers.

"What aren't you telling me?" she demanded, her voice hushed so the men wouldn't overhear. The Pirate did not answer her or spare her a glance, but kept his keen eyes on the dense foliage, as though he could see into it. "We're partners in this," she insisted as she stubbornly kept pace with him. "If you can't tell me what we're going into, then tell me why I should follow you for even one more step."

She did not bother to conceal the threat in her voice, and for the first time Reaver's pace faltered. She could almost hear the gears in his head turning, pondering whether she meant what she said. He must have decided she did, because after a minute of silence, he heaved an exasperated sigh.

"The old man called it the field of the 'many-headed' flowers," he began. "When I asked him what he meant, he spoke of a legend his people have perpetuated for centuries. Supposedly there is some species of flower in these parts that cannot easily be destroyed. If you shear off one head, it grows more in its place. Not necessarily a problem in and of itself, but according to legend these flowers are uncommonly aggressive." From the corner of his eye he caught the fleeting look of alarm that crossed her face, and he hastened to add, "I highly doubt they're as bad as all that. Stories that survive to become legend have a way of being grossly exaggerated."

Sparrow wasn't completely convinced. "Perhaps we'd have done better to stick to the river," she mused grimly. "Did he mention any weaknesses these plants might have had?"

"No, he said in ancient times his people learned to avoid this field, and eventually left the forest entirely to live beyond the canyon walls. There is a chance they no longer exist, if indeed they ever did."

"If they never existed, why the legends?" she asked.

"Superstition and ignorance make for a bad combination," was his cryptic reply.

They continued onward in silence, and roughly thirty minutes had passed when Sparrow noted there was a definite thinning in the trees. The crew seemed encouraged by this, but she warned them repeatedly not to become complacent.

And then the forest ended, and the company let out a collective gasp at the sight that lay before them. The field stretched far and wide, filling a space that seemed to have been gouged into the forest itself. And there, filling the gap, were the so-called 'many-headed flowers'. Leaving the crew to catch a brief rest, Sparrow and Reaver ascended a small hill to observe their next obstacle. Though enormous, they seemed harmless enough, standing at twice the heigh of a man with their great yellow petals splayed wide, facing the sun that was currently hidden away by stormy clouds, with an elegant fringe of loose vines swaying gently beneath the heads of the flowers. Though quite beautiful to behold, there was something ominous about the way the forest seemed to give the entire field a wide berth. There were several yards of open soil between the rim of the forest and the sea of flowers, as though the trees themselves wouldn't dare get too close. There were no birds or animals that she could see, but the plants grew so tall and close together that she couldn't see far within the field.

"What do you think?" Sparrow said quietly.

"They're flowers," was Reaver's blunt answer. "Right where the old man said they would be. More than I was expecting."

"Still doubting those old wive's tales, are we?" she asked smugly.

"Perhaps."

Sparrow observed the sea of flowers for another minute, then said, "Perhaps we should go around."

"It must stretch for miles," Reaver said impatiently. "We'll be lucky to reach the other side before dark."

"If those legends have any truth to them, we'll be lucky to reach the other side alive if we plough straight through."

The Pirate did not look convinced.

"How much further, do you think?" she asked.

"Another two days, three at most, if we stay this course."

"Is it worth the risk when we're this close?" Sparrow asked, almost pleading with him now. "Half a day to go around this field could mean we all make it through alive."

The lives saved hardly concerned the Pirate; so long as he and Sparrow made it through, as he had no doubt they would, he would be a happy man. And the way her eyes watched protectively over their combined crew sparked the dark flame of jealousy inside him; he wanted those looks and others like them reserved only for him. But as much as he might like, he couldn't quite bring the denial to his lips. He balked for several moments, but he already knew what his answer was going to be, and privately cursed his weakness even as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Very well, if we must –"

"Shh! Did you hear that?"

The Pirate fell silent. Sparrow, who had turned her back on the field, was now looking back the way they had come, her emerald eyes searching the depths of the forest as though expecting something to materialize there. There was nothing that he could see, but a familiar prickling on the back of his neck brought his hand instinctively to his _Dragonstomper_.

"What is it?"

"I don't –" Sparrow cut herself off abruptly, and then Reaver heard it: the sharp, high-pitched whistle of something long and narrow cutting through the air. He could not yet see it, but he knew there were three headed straight for himself and Sparrow. Utilizing his unnatural agility, he hooked one arm around her waist and, in the same motion, swung her behind the nearest tree, landing against her and covering her body with his own just as three wooden arrows pierced the empty space where they had just been standing.

In the few seconds it took Sparrow to rally her senses, she registered that the atmosphere of the company had completely changed. In place of the silent watchfulness, there was now urgent shouting and the volley of gunshots, and in the distance the shrill cries of battle from whoever had attacked them. Shoving the Pirate off her, she drew her pistol and joined with the crew. Many were already returning fire, but in the face of an enemy they could not see, the shots were fired in all directions, and it was highly unlikely that any of them found their mark. As she shouted orders for the men to retreat and take cover, Jack and Gresham materialized on either side of her.

"We're surrounded," Gresham shouted over the noise. "Shots came in from behind us, quickly followed by our flanks. They're raining down from on high, likely from the canopy."

"Was anyone hit?" she asked, her mind spinning as she tried to form a plan.

"No," Jack answered. "The first volley went wide, missing us by several yards."

Sparrow frowned at this. The shots aimed for herself and Reaver had been right on the mark. And if they were flanked on three sides by an enemy they could not see, by numbers they could not yet count –

"There is only one way we can go." Reaver was directly behind her, watching her with a firm, meaningful stare. "Flanked on both sides, our way back cut off. There's only one way out."

Sparrow gave him a withering look, but she knew he was right. The way back was blocked and going around was no longer an option. But the way forward –

"If you want certainty," the Pirate pressed, "then be certain that men will die should we try to force our way through the enemy lines."

She wanted to deny it, but there was no other choice. Uncertain though the path ahead was, they just might stand a chance.

"All right," she capitulated. Then she raised her voice, addressing the crew. "We press onward. Stay close and keep your head low. The hostiles will likely follow, but Avo willing we can loose them in the field beyond."

Crouched low, the crew moved as one to the edge of the forest, where they hesitated; once they were out in the open, in the void between the forest and the field, there would be no cover from whoever was attacking them.

They made the crossing in small groups, spread apart and running at full speed, dodging between hails of arrows and finally disappearing into the field beyond where they hid amongst the leaves and set up cover fire for the others. Mister Misagi and his son crossed with the second group, leaving Sparrow, Reaver, Gresham, and Jack to cross last; they could hear the battle cries echoing through the trees, closing in on them.

"After the next volley, we make a run for it," Sparrow said. "I'll go last, try to draw away the next round of fire."

Gresham and Jack immediately opened their mouths to argue, but were cut off as another hail of arrows arced over their heads. The moment the last arrow buried its head in the dirt, she grabbed the two men by each arm and thrust them forward before dashing out after them. Keeping their heads low, Jack and Gresham made straight for the field on the other side. Sparrow allowed herself to fall behind and deliberately drifted away from her comrades, and as she predicted, the next volley of arrows followed her, but, to her surprise, they fell laughably short, embedding themselves in her fresh footprints.

"Rather single-minded, these natives, though I don't think their heart's in it."

Sparrow glanced to her left, surprised to see Reaver running alongside her, also drawing fire to himself, but she didn't have a moment to fathom his unusual behavior. The moment Gresham and Jack reached the relative safety of the field, she harnessed her full speed until the world around her became a blur. As she flew over the ground, the Thief easily kept pace with her. Sparrow gauged that he could have effortlessly outstripped her and reached the relative safety of the field, but he remained at her side, barely a step behind her.

As soon as they were within the flower field, they both skidded to a halt. The men were waiting just within the boundary of the field, clustered in small groups between the stems of the flowers that towered over them, keeping the trees they'd left behind in clear view and ready to fire at any native who dared show himself. Sparrow took a moment to glance skyward; her face was showered by droplets of rain, but there was no sound here. The flowers, with their enormous yellow petals and great, man-sized leaves, loomed silently, almost threateningly, over them, emitting a sweet, heady perfume that one couldn't help but inhale deeply. It was so quiet that the battle cries of the enemy did not reach them here, so Sparrow moved back toward the edge of the field and peered around the curved siding of a leaf. The could see the vaguest hints of movement in the trees, but whoever had attacked them was not in immediate pursuit. The men held their positions, and Gresham, Jack, and Reaver regrouped around her.

"It looks like another of the rumors are true," she said grimly, lowering her head and facing her comrades. "Who'd have expected we'd actually come across locals in this Avo-forsaken place."

"How did they know we were here?" Gresham muttered aloud. "We've not come across any villages, not another living soul."

"They've been following us, for several days I reckon," Sparrow said, and everyone looked at her in surprise. "I thought I sensed someone on our tail, but I couldn't be certain."

"But what do they want?" Jack said, wiping away the rain and sweat running down his forehead and into his eyes. "They dinna intend teh kill, their shots flew too wide – felt almost like they were chasin' us inteh here."

Sparrow frowned thoughtfully. The only shots that had been on their mark were the ones aimed at Reaver and herself. Were they the intended targets? But why single them out of an entire group of perceived intruders?

"For the time being we should assume they are shooting to kill," Sparrow said. "And we can't possibly hope to stand and fight here. We're too exposed, they'll have us surrounded and pick us off one by one."

"Then the only way is forward," the Pirate said, sounding satisfied with the situation.

"We must stick together," Sparrow continued. "And keep your eyes peeled. Seeing as the natives actually exist, there's no telling if everything else we've heard is true."

The Pirate aided her in mobilizing the men. Sparrow assigned Blodwyn to assist Bretton with the beasts, and she spread the crew out in a formation that could navigate through the field easily, but left no side unprotected.

Bit by bit they forged their way deeper in, moving slowly and quietly to avoid disturbing the eerie plant life. Sparrow frequently ensured that they were going in the right direction, but repeatedly found herself glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see natives following them. Though she had yet to see hide or hair of them, she could definitely sense them close by. They would not give up their quarry so easily.

"They're still out there," the Pirate muttered, his sharp eyes darting to and fro. "I can feel them following us, watching us."

"I know," Sparrow replied. "What should we do? We can't keep going onward while we're constantly looking over our shoulders."

"We can draw them to us," he suggested. "Flush them out. Take them out in the open, on even ground."

"If they're native to this land, they made their first attack here for a reason, and I don't think it was so we would be on even ground," Sparrow pointed out. "We're sitting ducks and they know it. The only question that needs answering is why they didn't just take us out when they had the chance? And why haven't they pursued us? What are they waiting for?"

"An invitation?" Reaver asked sardonically.

Sparrow scoffed, but then said thoughtfully, "I think Jack is right. I keep getting the insane feeling that they missed on purpose. That they're chasing us."

"Not entirely," he countered. "If I hadn't been ready and waiting for it, the arrows fired at you and I would likely have found their mark."

"But why single _us_ out?" Sparrow voiced in frustration.

"It's obvious, isn't it? Cut off the head and the snake will die."

She had to concede he had a point there. "If they want to take us down first, we can use that to our advantage."

"Oh? And what might you be thinking of?" Reaver asked. "Though I warn you, if it involves some kind of _noble_ sacrifice, you can count me out."

Sparrow rolled her eyes. "It's not a sacrifice, exactly. More along the lines of a diversion." She paused for a moment, then very quietly continued, "If we separated from the others, and made easy targets of ourselves, we could bait them away from the crew."

"And risk my own beautiful neck?" he asked in disbelief. "Sounds suspiciously like a sacrifice to me."

"Are a few tribals with bows and arrows too much for the great Pirate King?" she asked archly, and was pleased when the Pirate scowled at her. "It'll be easier to face them down if we don't have the crew to worry about, and they won't be expecting it."

"Unless –"

"Unless what?"

"Unless the enemy takes the initiative."

For the second time Sparrow felt herself being forced behind cover and another hail of arrows rained down over them; Sparrow barely had a moment to register how poorly aimed these shots were when her ears were assaulted with shouts and screams. Her heart in her throat, Sparrow tried to get a clear view of what was going on.

At first glance, she thought the men were running away, weaving in and out of the stems and leaves, but then she looked closer and realized the flowers _themselves_ were on the move. Even though they were rooted to the ground, they swayed this way and that on their long stems, as though reaching for the panicked humans. She dimly wondered why the men weren't running away, but then the answer became painfully obvious: the fringe of vines that she had thought so elegant had come to life along with the rest of the flower and reached out like so many snakes to ensnare any man too slow to flee. Horrified, she watched as young Blodwyn was reeled by his ankles back to the flower who had snared him. He was screaming at the top of his voice, trashing and clawing at the ground with his bare hands. His sword lay on the ground several feet away where he had dropped it. The flower petals were no longer faced up toward the sky, but hung low to the ground, opened grotesquely like a predator's jaws preparing to devour a meal. Though numb with shock, Sparrow's feet ran forward, and before she could stop to think, she was bringing the blade of her saber down onto the thick stem. The petal-head fell to the ground and the vines shriveled back, releasing the young boy.

Shaking violently from head to foot, Blodwyn staggered to his feet and ran to Sparrow's side, his face a mix of terror and relief. Sparrow pulled him to her side with one arm, but their relief was short-lived. The stalk of the flower lifted itself from the ground and stood straight up toward the sky, shaking horribly. It was like watching the high-speed growth of a tree; first the bulb was forced up through the head of the stalk, then it began to grow. The petals unfurled and extended themselves outward, and only when it was as large as the flower-head at Sparrow's feet did it shudder to a halt.

Sparrow immediately shoved Blodwyn behind her, her sword held protectively before her, though apparently it was pointless. Even so, she raised it above her head and brought it down again, hacking at every flower she could reach. She couldn't stop them, but just maybe – if she could slow them down –

Above her, she heard another shrill scream, and looked up to see one of Reaver's crew, a skinny man with wicked teeth and bronze skin covered in tattoos, flailing in terror as he was pulled into the mouth of a flower. She watched in horror as the petals closed around him, and the minute they did his screams escalated to those of a man being tortured in the hells of Skorm. Spurred into action, Sparrow dashed between the writhing flower stems and slashed with all her might through the neck of the flower that had captured one of their own. It immediately fell to the ground, but the petals did not open.

"Blodwyn! Help me get him out!" she screamed, and the lad, though shaking with terror, did as she commanded, grasping the rim of the yellow petals and helping her to pry them open, which was not easy as the man inside was still thrashing.

When the petals finally opened, what fell out nearly made Sparrow horribly sick, as it only vaguely resembled the man who had disappeared into it. His skin was little more than a liquid ooze, melting off the remains of his flesh that now resembled ground meat. What was still recognizable as the jaw-bone was stretched wide in a horrible, hair-raising scream as the man continued to thrash and writhe in agony.

Stomach churning, Sparrow could hardly move, but she knew there was nothing she could do to help the man. She could only –

"Blodwyn, look away," she said as her only warning, then quickly, before she could second-guess herself, raised her saber above her head and swung it down again, severing the man's head from his body.

The screaming immediately stopped, but there was no relief to be found for Sparrow; she could barely hear the cries and struggles of the remaining crew that surrounded, desperately trying to escape. She couldn't move as vines circles tightly around each man's limbs and dragged them across the mud and soil. When a pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders and Reaver's fierce expression encompassed her range of vision, she tried to hear what he was saying, tried to respond, but nothing was coming out. The Pirate began to shake her, she could see his lips moving, but heard nothing.

And then she heard a cry that seemed to tear straight through to her heart.

The world moved in slow motion as she turned toward the source of the sound, until she could see just who had made it. A man, one of hers, being dragged across the ground before her very eyes.

_Jack_! She screamed his name, though she couldn't be certain if the word made it past her lips. Her movements were jerky as she shoved the Pirate's hands away from her; her feet felt like clay as she tried to run forward. With her sword raised, she hacked wildly at the vines, desperate to free him, but even as she did she felt a strong, vice-like grip around her own wrists, halting her assault. Then she was being dragged across the ground. Her eyes locked with Jack's brown ones; his were filled with fear. For her. For himself.

She had done this. She had lead him into this hell. If she didn't save them, they would die here. All of them. Bretton. Blodwyn. Gresham. Jack. Herself. She couldn't let them die. She needed the strength... the will to save them.

And then she felt it. Deep inside her, a heat began to burn hotter and hotter, spreading out from her heart and along her limbs, reaching her fingertips, igniting into bright flames that revolved in the palms of her hands.

Drawing on the very deepest depths of her Will, her desire to live, a fragile hope they she could save those who laid down their lives for her, she stoked the flames burning from within her. The fire grew hotter and brighter, encompassing her hands, though she felt no pain. The vines around her wrists recoiled from the heat, shriveling away from the flames until she was able to rip her hands free. Staggering to her feet, Sparrow held up her hands, watching the mesmerizing flames as they danced in her palms. This was a power that she had neglected for so long and all but forgotten. With this power, with enough Will, she could protect those important to her.

Knowing what she had to do, Sparrow brought her palms within inches of each other, focusing on the heat, on the flames, watching them burn brighter, building and burning into an inferno so intense it was like holding the sun between her hands. She could not feel the heat, but she could feel the power. It drove her hands high into the air, and every living thing seemed to stop moving and hold its collective breath in awe of such immense power. She could hear the pounding of her heart, the roar of the flames, and a voice inside her that cried out in defiance of death. When the fire had reached its peak, when she felt she could hold the sun in her hands no longer, the roaring voice inside her forced its way out through her lips for all to hear as she slammed the burning sphere down at her feet. It exploded instantly on impact with the ground, sending its scorching shockwave outward in all directions; flowers, leaves, and vines were ignited all around her, and a very different kind of screaming filled the air.

The men clambered shakily to their feet, covered in mud and dirt and several shades paler under their sun-bronzed skin. The shrill screaming seemed to come from the burning flowers themselves; they shriveled and withered, their stems vibrating uncontrollably as the fire consumed them. With firm resolve, Sparrow called on her Will again and again, hurling balls of flame and destruction in every direction, setting the field aflame until it felt as though they were cocooned in a sacred ring of fire. When she was able to stop, Sparrow looked around at the remaining crew. Only one lay dead, the very one whom she had had to end herself, and in the chaos the ponies had run off, and Sparrow had a feeling the unfortunate creatures had become a meal for the carnivorous flowers.

Jack was still on the ground, his eyes wide with shock as he surveyed the destruction around them, then turned to his captain. Her expression was fierce, almost terrifying, but it was her eyes that sent a chill through his soul: they were no longer the warm color of emeralds, but a burning electric blue that seemed to glow with the same intensity as lightening. The same power was infused into her very skin, as shown by the electric-blue veins spreading back into her hairline and down her throat, disappearing beneath her shirt.

"Jack." He heard his name from her lips, but it was a struggle to find his voice. "Jack! Are you all right?"

She was kneeling at his side now, her hands clutching at his shoulders, and he forced himself to allay her fear.

"I'm – I'm fine," he reassured her. "What of the others? Where is Gresham?"

Sparrow released him and they both got to their feet.

"He's fine. Only one is dead. And the beasts... they're gone. But we can't stay here... the tribals are still out there." She turned to the men, addressing the crew at large. "We have to get out of here." A strong hand landed on her shoulder, and Sparrow glanced behind her to see Reaver standing stoically beside her.

"She's right, we cannot stay here," he said. "Our course is that way" – he gestured with his hands – "Do not stray from the group. That mistake will likely be your last."

Sparrow nodded and ignited the flames in her hands again. Burning their way through the field would slow them down, but there wasn't another choice.

Onward they pressed, the shaken crew remaining behind Sparrow as she carved out the path for them. Reaver remained by her side; she could feel his eyes on her, but did not speak. She was too focused on her current task.

"Are you all right?" he finally asked.

Sparrow glanced at him; the question sounded ridiculous after what had just happened, but she could hear the depth of his concern in those four words. He was genuinely frightened for her well-being.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "A little shaken, but I suspect we all are."

She half expected him to make some cocky comeback about how impossible it was for him to be shaken by any enemy, but the Pirate said nothing. Instead he squeezed her shoulder reassuring, and then released her.

By Sparrow's reckoning, they were almost all the way through the field when the next attack came. The arrows hailed down on them again, from the left flank this time, but as they shielded themselves from the onslaught, shadowed figures came prowling from the smoke, rain, and burning flowers. Sparrow squinted her eyes, trying to see what was coming for them. There were at least thirty of them, maybe forty, and the hazy figures moved quickly, darting this way and that as they approached.

"Jack! Gresham! They're coming!"

"Then we shall stand and fight by your side!" Gresham vowed, already drawing his weapons.

"No! I'm going to divert them," she said, and both men looked at her as though she had gone quite mad. "Lead the rest of the crew back the way we've come. Stand and fight of they follow you, but don't leave the burned trail. I'll find a way to deal with them, then I'll come find you."

"You speak madness, Captain!" Gresham barked. "You cannot hope to take on an army of savages by yourself!"

"We're vastly outnumbered! Many of us will die. We don't know who these people are or what they're capable of, but if there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that they don't want these men. They're after Reaver and myself, I know it. You don't need to die here if you can escape!"

"We're in this together," Jack intervened.

Sparrow looked into his eyes and took his hand in his. "Yes, we are. I need you to protect the rest of these men. Protect Mister Misagi and his son. Guide them back the way we've come. Reaver and I can deal with these tribals. Please, for once, just follow my orders. I know what I'm doing."

Jack looked for all the world like the last thing he wanted to do was follow those particular orders, but something in her voice broke his resolve, and he growled, "Fine, I will. But if yeh've not caught up teh us in one hour, an' I mean _one hour_, I'm coming back fer yeh, I don' care what hell I have teh fight through teh find yeh."

Sparrow nodded solemnly in acceptance of his vow, then turned her back on him to face down their enemy. "I'm going to charge them, then lead them off on a chase. Take the chance to retreat. Reaver, if you're with me, then be ready on my signal. If not, I'd suggest you make your retreat as fast as you can."

She didn't wait for a response. In a flash she raised her _Nightwatch_ and did something both very brave and very stupid. Letting out an almighty roar, she charged their enemy, firing several shots and lobbing burning spheres of punishment upon the attacking army. Several of her shots scored a hit, so surprised were they that they didn't even have time to defend themselves, but that surprise quickly wore off, and soon they were charging her down. She did not bother taking the time to reload, but instead holstered her pistol and drew her sword. By now several warriors were bearing down upon her, and Sparrow was shocked to see they no longer had their weapons drawn, but were unsheathing several long, hollow tubes. Not knowing what to make of that, she changed course immediately, then heard several gunshots being fired in rapid succession. Reaver was directly behind her, putting a hole in the throat of each savage who raised their wooden tubes to their lips. Together, they fled the charred path she'd cut through the field and ran full speed through the carnivorous flowers. These ones, having not yet been awakened, did nothing to hinder their passage, and Sparrow glanced over her shoulder, delighted to see the enemy giving chase, but then her heart sank. At least ten of their number, excluding the ones she and Reaver had felled, were missing, and she prayed they had not gone in pursuit of her crew.

"I don't think we're going to lose them! Do you have some sort of plan in mind, or are you just making this up as you go?" Reaver called out.

"We need a place to make a stand!" Sparrow panted. "If we fight here, we'll be surrounded and overpowered!"

"Have a little faith in me, woman!" the Pirate said, looking affronted even as they ran for their lives.

"If I didn't I wouldn't be here with you."

They did not speak another word until they reached the edge of the field. Pausing only to make sure their pursuers were still on their tail, they ran straight into the forest. Sparrow took the high road in the network of branches above them, and Reaver did not hesitate to follow her, allowing her the lead.

"You do know where we're headed, don't you?" the Pirate finally asked.

Sparrow nodded abruptly. Over the heavy falling of rain, she could hear the roaring of the river again, though they were much further along than where they'd left it. She had no idea what to expect, but it was the best plan she had.

Finally, the branches ended, and they dropped down to the forest floor.

"We have second before they catch up to us," the Pirate said. "So what's the plan?"

Sparrow was looking over the edge of the river. In this place it was several feet down a sheer cliff to the water, which looked even more violent than it had a mere hour ago. The rain was falling so hard she was soaked to the bone, but she stubbornly pushed her sopping hair out of her face and face the Pirate.

"The plan is we fight. They can't surround us here, so we have that on our side."

"_That_'_s_ your plan?" Reaver shouted.

"At least here we're not backed into a wall! Nor can they come at us from behind!" The Pirate sputtered for several seconds, but Sparrow cut him off. "If you're too coward to fight, then flee! I will hold them off! Make your escape, back up the river. You'll be able to rejoin the others and just maybe get out of here alive!"

They stood glaring murderously at each other, both heaving and neither willing to back down.

"This is you're only chance," Sparrow said, now reloading her gun. "I can hear them coming. You have ten seconds at best to disappear."

Sneering viciously, the Pirate drew his _Dragonstomper_ and turned his back to the river.

"Right. We fight together then."

"Don't you dare go getting yourself killed," Reaver growled. "I don't need your ardent knight hunting me down for the rest of his life."

The corners of Sparrow lips twitched only slightly, but then there was a rustling in the trees, and her full attention was focused on the small army of tribals slowly emerging from the forest.

For the first time, she was able to get a close look at them. Their skin was dark, reminding her vividly of Garth, though as far as she could see none of them we're marked with blue Will veins glowing from beneath their skin. There were, however, several that were tall and lithe like herself and Reaver, carrying bows and quivers of arrows, and still several more that were built along the lines of Hannah, with burly muscles and great war clubs. All wore furs and hides to cover themselves, and marked their skin with different colored paints over their faces, arms, and chests.

Sparrow cocked the hammer of her pistol, but to her surprise, the tribals did not attack, but held their ground with their weapons drawn, watching her and Reaver with their dark, fathomless eyes.

Watching them uneasily, Sparrow hissed, "Why are they hesitating?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," the Pirate muttered. "Perhaps we should use it to our advantage and take the initiative."

Sparrow shook her head, feeling uncertain and unwilling to take her eyes from any of them. "Can you try speaking to them?"

Reaver scoffed. "Their language is long forgotten by the village of Asaka Kagoyo, and it is unlikely that these savages will understand anything else."

"Try," Sparrow said encouragingly.

Rolling his eyes but unable to think of another plan that didn't involve a shootout, Reaver tried a simple Samarkish greeting in the regional tongue. He was unsurprised when he got no response, and he gave Sparrow an exasperated look out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you satisfied, or should I try again in every language I know?"

Sparrow opened her mouth to shoot him an equally sarcastic remark, but one of the tribals was moving to the forefront. He was obviously their leader; he was the biggest and strongest of the lot, and wore the most elaborate body paints with a necklace of gleaming feathers around his neck. He drew his sword and pointed it toward Sparrow, then said something in his deep, guttural voice.

"Did that make any sense to you?"

The Pirate shook his head, and the leader repeated his words, then gestured to her violently with his free hand, as though beckoning her toward him.

"I think – I think he wants me to come with them."

"Oh, is that what he wants? Shall I give him our answer?" Reaver pulled back the hammer of his pistol. The tribals reacted aggressively to the sound, each of them drawing their weapons. The leader shouted at them and the savages stayed back, but several unsheathed their hollow wooden tubes.

"What _are_ those things?"

The Pirate did not answer her. He recognized this weapon, knew of it's purpose. He knew he had only a split second to act. He could protect himself, but Sparrow was too far, he could not repel the attack, nor kill all the attackers before at least one of them was able to make their move. He had to make his decision... but even as he heard the darts flying through the air, his instinct took over, and there was no decision...

It was all a blur for Sparrow. She saw the tribals brings the tubes to their lips. She heard the whistling as projectiles were slicing through the air. And in a blur she felt something hard hit her from the left, knocking her off her feet. Before she could even let out a cry of shock, she was falling down... time seemed to slow to a crawl, and she glanced up to see Reaver was looking down at her, flat on his chest on the ground as though he had fallen, with dark slender spines protruding from the side of his throat like the quills of a porcupine... but instead of fear, rage, or even triumph, his eyes were filled with relief as he watched her fall through the air. And then she was submerged in the raging water below, and he was gone.

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Author's Note: Thanks to one reviewer, it's now hit me that some of you can't review, because you already left a review for chapter thirty. If it's not too much trouble, you can log out and leave an anonymous review. If it is, please just leave a review after my next chapter. Thank you.


	31. Where the Heart Is

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable.

Author's Note: This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the last one, but the next chunk needs a chapter all its own. I do hope you enjoy. And as for the last chapter, I forgot that some of you who'd reviewed my author's note wouldn't be able to comment on chapter 30 again, so if you have anything to say about that one, please tack it on to your review for this, if you have one. I'd love to hear your thoughts on that last chapter. And this one. I really think you'll like it, even if it is short. It's quite an important step for Reaver and Sparrow.

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Chapter Thirty-One

Where the Heart Is

Shock forced all the air from Sparrow's body as the dark, freezing water closed in over her head and threw her tumbling downstream. She rolled over and over, lungs burning, and she lost her saber and _Nightwatch_ immediately as the weapons were ripped from her hands by the vicious current.

Her body was quickly growing numb even as she fought her way to the surface. For a split second her head broke through, and she grabbed a quick lungful of air before the current rolled her under again, but almost immediately she was slammed against a rock. Dark spots danced in front of her as the air burst from her lungs, and she tucked her legs into her chest and tried to ride it out, no longer fighting the pull, just allowing the strength of the river to carry her along. She had to surface for air when she could, and several more times she slammed into rocks, but their surface was too slippery for her to grab onto, so she went tumbling down the river again.

She tried to focus on simply rolling along and finding air when she could, but each time she surfaced a sob fought to escape her throat. She was so exhausted it was becoming difficult to move her arms or try to keep her body straight; she couldn't see rocks until she was upon them, and had no chance to pull herself out of the water. She couldn't swim in any direction, couldn't see, and her clothes and armor were weighing her down. Even as she repeatedly fought her way to the surface, she cursed the Pirate over and over. She had thought she could always count on his self-interest, his selfishness, but he had unexpectedly saved her from death or capture when she would have stayed at his side and fought to the last. Why did he have to all-of-a-sudden find a shred of selflessness in his ruthless heart? Now she was being carried far away from him, far away from their crew, and she could be of no help to either of them. Had the tribals killed him, then hunted down their men? Her heart screamed a denial. Reaver would not allow himself to be killed, and Jack would jump into bed with the Pirate King himself before he failed her. She had to believe in them.

The water shot her around a bend and something large loomed in front of her making her heart leap. A fallen tree lay partially across the water with its branches sweeping out. If she didn't kill herself by knocking her head on the trunk and drowning, she might have a chance. She gathered her strength, but she collided with the tree much harder than she expected; the solid wood drove her knees hard into her chest, robbing her of the small amount of air left in her lungs. As the river sucked her under, she threw her hands out and managed to hook her arm around a branch. Sending up a prayer that it was strong enough to hold against the pull of the water, she gather her strength for the next step.

Before she could drag herself onto the branches, she heard a blood-chilling noise. She barely caught the sound above the roar of the river and the thundering of her own heart, but there was a distinctive voice, a mixture of growling and human vocals. For one terrible moment she nearly lost her grip on the branch, shocked to find that she wasn't alone, that they had managed to catch up to her so quickly. Shivering continually, she held herself still, trying not to allow even a breath to escape and alert them of her presence.

The voices continually moved closer. From what she could tell, there were three of them speaking in their strange tongue. She tried to pull herself higher into the tangle of branches; she didn't want to let go, but she would be in plain view if she stayed where she was, and she didn't know if she'd get another tree to latch onto. As she inched her way inside the labyrinth of branches, her shin hit a thick limb beneath the water and she quickly wrapped her legs around it. She had to let go of the death grip she had on the higher branch. It was terrifying to even consider, and it took several seconds to force her fingers to slide along the branch until her body was no longer stretched out in plain sight. She closed her eyes and let go, using every bit of strength she possessed to hang on with her legs.

The current dragged at her, a powerful force intent on ripping her free and sending her careening down the river again, but she fought back, slowly pressing her upper body back toward her legs. Her fingertips brushed leaves and small twigs, and she strained harder until she managed to curl her fingers around the underwater branch. Fighting not to breathe loudly, she tried to stay calm. She was in a precarious position and her strength was severely drained from fighting the current. The tree shook, alerting her that something heavy had leapt onto it, and her heartbeat thundered even louder than the roaring river.

The voices spoke again, sounding frustrated this time. Sparrow closed her eyes and tried not to shake. They were right above her now; one was speaking furiously. Another answered in more calming tones. It was obvious they were looking for her. She could feel the vibrations through the tree as they prowled back and forth across it, and she imagined them looking upstream, waiting for her to come tumbling down.

Shivering uncontrollably, she clenched her teeth so they wouldn't chatter and hoped they would leave soon; if they didn't she was going to lose her ability to hold onto the branches. She couldn't even feel her fingers anymore. She was so tired, but she ruthlessly pushed her weariness away. Weakness couldn't be allowed. Not here. Not now. She had chosen to come to this place, had chosen to use herself as bait to allow her crew time to retreat. She would wait this out. She couldn't afford to fail merely because she was numb and exhausted.

Finally, at long last, her prayers were answered as the tree vibrated again; the men leapt back onto shore, and the voices faded away entirely. Sparrow waited as long as she dared, then began to make her way to shore. Again, she feared releasing her grip, but she was in a better position to climb if she could just make her frozen body move.

She loosened her hand first, flexing her fingers beneath the water before she reached for a branch just above the surface and grasping it tightly before letting go with her other hand. Very slowly she counted to three, then, marshaling every bit of strength she had left, she let go with her legs and kicked as hard as she was able to propel herself upward. At last, she dragged her head and chest completely out of the water and lay across the bed of branches.

Sparrow had no idea how long she lay there, but other than the constant roar of the river, it was quiet in the forest. By the time she was able to find the strength to lift her head again and crawl the rest of the way onto the solid trunk, the birds and animals were once again chattering and the pouring rain had let up into a fine, silvery mist.

* * *

Sometime later, it could have been hours, Sparrow pushed herself onto her hands and knees and took a careful look around. She was still alone; the tribals had not returned to look for her. Mustering her strength again, she crawled along the trunk to the bank and let herself fall onto the ground, into the mud and grass. The forest was growing dark now, quickly becoming a great, mysterious shadow where creatures could watch her with hungry eyes, and as battered and bruised as she was, she doubted she would be able to put up much of a fight.

Sparrow pulled herself to her feet and fell twice, so she dragged herself toward the nearest tree and used a hanging vine to pull herself up again. Her knees trembled, but she held on determinedly. She couldn't afford to waste any more time. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd taken her tumble down the river, but she was certain it had been a good deal longer than an hour. Even now, Jack could be out there looking for her. _Assuming they_'_re still alive_. Sick at the though, she quickly expelled it from her mind. She had to believe they had made their retreat and were waiting for her up the river, or she would lose her mind. She had to go find them and then... then she had to find Reaver. The thought that those savages might have killed him almost drove her back to her knees. No – he couldn't have died at their hands. He was the _Pirate_ _King_ for Avo's sake! He was alive, she just knew it.

Gritting her teeth, she let go of the vine and began the painful process of stumbling her way up the river's banks. It was a painful process, but she wasn't far along before she found a thick fallen branch almost as long as she was tall. She braced herself on it, prepared to used it as a weapon if necessary, but she continued to shiver. She did her best to ignore it; moving around was already warming her up, and meanwhile she was alone and unarmed but for a wooden staff, and her Will was completely drained. She had to keep moving. She had to find the others.

It felt like another hour had passed by the time Sparrow stumbled onto the scene of her final stand. Her beating heart clogged her throat as the cliff came into view ahead of her. There, plainly visible, was a body lying face-down in the mud. Her pulse quickened painfully, and she stumbled forward on legs that threatened to give out on her at any moment, but she was only a few feet away when she got a better look. Relief instantly flooded through her at the realization that this wasn't Reaver. It was one of the very natives who had attacked them.

Hands trembling, she rolled the body onto its back and immediately recoiled from what she saw. The man's throat had been gouged open right through the jugular with what appeared to be a handful of long, sharp, black quills, and the mud beneath the man was soaked through with blood. Sparrow carefully removed one of the quills with nimble fingers. These were what she'd thought she'd seen in Reaver's skin as she'd fallen into the river. The tip was razor sharp with a wicked-looking barb that still had a strip of fair skin hanging from it. Sparrow shuddered as she imagined the pain it must have caused Reaver to rip the barbed quills form his throat, but apparently that hadn't stopped him from doing so, nor from using said quills to fell one of their enemy. Yet the savages had not killed him in retaliation, or they had, but had taken his body for whatever reason.

Sparrow took a steadying breath and reminded herself the Pirate still might have escaped, but as she stared at the quills, that hope seemed less and less likely. In and of themselves, the quills were not typically lethal unless used with excessive force, as Reaver had obviously done, or unless tipped with poison. Could the Pirate have been incapacitated before being carried off? Unless he was dead, it seemed the most likely option. Reaver would not have allowed himself to be taken under any other circumstance. And the poison itself would need to be exceptionally strong if it were to have any chance of effecting someone with the blood of a Hero in their veins. But how could these savages have known that? Just what kind if people were they dealing with?

"Sparrow?"

Wheeling around, Sparrow saw Jack quietly emerging from the trees and give her a thorough, searching look. He took in her matted, straggly hair, her muddy and torn clothing, and the dark bruises blossoming on her skin.

"What happened teh yeh?" he demanded, rushing up to stand before her. Before she could get a word out, he took her cheeks in the palms of his hands and lifted her face to his. He looked her over thoroughly, taking in each scrape and bruise, and then asked, "How bad is it? Is anythin' broken?"

"No, I'm just so relieved you're all right," she said.

"What happened teh yeh?" he asked again.

"I took a trip down the river," she said. "Reaver's idea of an escape plan."

Jack's eyes traveled down to the corpse laying beside her.

"Yeh're doin'?" he asked.

"No, his," she said.

Jack looked surprised as he took in the corpse's unusual wounds, then looked at her again. "He's not with yeh?"

"No, we got separated," Sparrow admitted. "I – I don't know where he is. I need to go find him. But where are the others?"

"We got away all right," Jack said, "but Gresham – he took an arrow as we escaped."

Sparrow was immediately alarmed. "Take me to him."

Jack did not argue, and lead her away from the bloody scene and headed upriver. "It wasn' such a bad wound, he's 'ad worse, but then he started shakin' and sweatin'. We didna know what teh do fer 'im, but that old man and his son seemed to know what was wrong. They cooked up some kinda tonic and made 'im drink it, then we made shelter not far from 'ere. That old man kept blathering on, no idea what he was saying, but he was pointing up river, toward his village methinks. Gresham and I refused teh leave without yeh, and when yeh didna come back, I came out 'ere looking fer yeh."

They walked in silence for several minutes as Sparrow took in this information. If Mister Misagi was insisting on taking Gresham back to his village, that could mean either Gresham was still in need of care, or the old man was scared out of his wits and wanted to leave this place as fast as possible. But then, it could be both, and she couldn't blame the man. At his age he had no business traipsing around a hostile rain forest, and it was partially her fault that he was here to begin with. She'd allowed her feelings for the Pirate to sway her judgement and she'd coerced the man into coming along... but if she hadn't, Gresham could very well be dead now, and they wouldn't have been able to help him.

Before she could spend too much time wondering if she ought to feel guilty or relieved, they stumbled into the makeshift camp. Only one tent was raised. The men were completely silent, clustered around a sputtering fire for warmth, but they looked up when she entered. Sparrow imagined they looked slightly fearful of her, and as she ducked into the tent with Jack, she said, "What's with them?"

Jack shrugged. "That was an impressive bit o' magic yeh did back there," he said. "Even I didna know yeh could still call upon powers such as those."

"I've been doing little things here and there when I've been desperate enough," she admitted. "That was the first time I've been able to unleash so much... destruction."

"Yes, it was a sight for this old man to behold," said a hoarse voice from the corner of the tent. "And now the pirates are seemingly more scared of you than they are of their own captain."

Gresham Sedgewick had propped himself up on his elbow when they entered, and he lay looking up at them in obvious relief. Sparrow thought he looked alarmingly flushed, and she rushed to kneel by his side.

"Gresham," she said simply, all her worry imbued into that one word.

"Don't go looking so scared," he rasped jovially. "It'll take more than a tainted arrow to take down this old war horse."

"Old war horses don't belong on the field of battle," she said sensibly as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin burned to the touch and she immediately turned to Jack who had knelt down beside her. "You've got to get him out of here. I want you to take Mister Misagi and Reaver's men and get back to the rendezvous point. By the time you get there, the boats should be returning for you."

"Yeh expect me teh leave without yeh?" Jack asked.

"Why would we leave without you?" Gresham asked, sounding concerned himself now. "What's happened?" he looked around again, as though listening hard, then looked back at Sparrow. "Where's the Pirate?"

"I –" Sparrow swallowed hard. "I don't know. I think – I think he was taken captive."

"Impossible," her old friend said, though he knew she wouldn't lie to him. "He's not that kind of man. He wouldn't allow himself to be imprisoned for all the gold in Albion."

"No," Sparrow said. "No, he wouldn't, but – but I think that's what's happened. After we drew the tribals away and let you escape, we ended up beside the river, further downstream where it was a long drop to the water below. We were making a stand, but when they showed up, they had these poisoned quills, and Reaver just – he pushed me off and I went tumbling down the river. He was hit instead of me." She could feel Jack stiffen beside her, felt his gaze rake over her bruises once more. "By the time I was able to reach the shore and make my way back, they were gone, Reaver with them. I think they may have taken him."

"And you're going to go after him," Gresham said shrewdly.

"Yes," Sparrow said firmly. "He saved my life. I can't _not_ go after him."

As weakened as he was, Gresham raised his arm and clasped it with Sparrow's. "Then go where your heart demands and come back to us safe."

Sparrow smiled solemnly and gripped his forearm tightly. "And you hold on, my friend. I won't be forgiving you for a long time if you're not there when I get back."

"I've been wounded worse than this before, and probably will be again," he said dismissively, but even his voice was fading as he lay back upon his pallet.

Sparrow released his arm and laid it gently at his side. "Rest easy."

* * *

Outside the tent, Sparrow and Jack stood side by side. The sky was steadily darkening, but Sparrow knew she could not wait until dawn. She would cover more ground traveling alone, and she couldn't take the thought of sitting around and doing nothing while Reaver was likely being carried far away from her.

When Jack finally turned to look at her, she braced herself to tell him she was going no matter what, but when he spoke, he said, "Yeh should take me weapons with yeh, seeing as yeh lost yer own in the river."

Smiling bemusedly, Sparrow asked, "Are you not going to tell me how foolish my mission is? How the Pirate has more than earned his fate and we should escape with our lives while we still have them?"

"I thought about it," he admitted wryly, "but I know yeh're goin' teh do what yeh think is right. If yer heart truly belongs to the Pirate King, yeh'll go after him no matter the danger."

Automatically, Sparrow opened her mouth to state that her heart could never belong to the Pirate, but the words got lost somewhere in her throat. Instead she asked, "What will you do for protection if you lend me your weapons?"

"I will make good use of Gresham's and get him far away from this place."

Sparrow nodded, then looked across to where the pirates sat watching them, looking oddly solemn and a little warry. "You'll be able to handle the Pirate's crew, won't you?"

"If they want to leave this place alive, and I'm sure they do, they'll be following orders," he said coldly, staring the lot of them down.

"I don't want them to know what's happened to their captain. You could have complete anarchy on your hands if they think he's gone. Tell them anything you need to to assure their cooperation."

Jack nodded, and Sparrow took one last look into the tent behind her. "I know you'll take good care of him. Stay in Asaka Kagoyo until he's well enough to travel. And if – if I don't come back, return to Bloodstone. If anyone can take care of that town, it's the pair of you." She could see in his eyes that these words were the last thing he wanted to hear, but she was grateful when he simply nodded and offered her his sword and rifle. She took them gratefully and strapped them across her back.

"Be safe and come back teh us. Bloodstone needs yeh." _I need you_.

The unspoken words seemed to shimmer in the air between them. He couldn't bring himself to speak them aloud when she was going after _him_, and after all... it felt too much like saying goodbye.

It didn't matter, though. Sparrow understood them anyway.

"Leave a candle burning for me."

And with a nod, Sparrow sprinted away from the camp and disappeared into the forest.

* * *

When the Pirate King pried his eyes open, his first thought was that he'd never in his long life had hangover like this one. His head felt like it was splitting in two from the bridge of his nose to the crown of his head, and he wondered just what kind of cocktail he'd had to give him a hangover the likes of which he'd never experienced. Even blinking hurt, so he stopped and let his eyes close again; it wasn't like he could see much anyway. Wherever he was, it was dark as pitch. He was more than content for the moment to lay still for however long it took for him to regain his senses.

Sometime later, maybe an hour, maybe more, the Pirate floated out of his vague dreams and pried his eyes open again. The pain was less this time, and so he attempted to move. His muscles ached and burned, but he stretched anyway, allowing the pain to pass through him, acknowledged only by a low growl that escaped his lips. He rubbed his face, and then his neck where his fingers met with a cloth bandage wrapped around his throat. Ah, yes, the poisoned darts. Apparently someone had thought to treat the area he'd ripped the barbs from; though the wound was still tender, the pain was clearing the fog from his head, and finally he was able to think.

_Where am I_? Slowly, he sat up, and was repulsed to find himself sitting on a smelly straw pallet. He stood to his full height and shuffled forward as he reached out into the darkness. ThereHis palms scraped against three stone walls close around him, and the fourth was little more than crude metal bars, meaning he was in some kind of holding cell; judging by the earthen floor and the stale, drafty quality of the air, he was likely underground.

He could vividly remember how he'd come to be here, and as he retook his seat on the straw pallet, the images of those last moment beside the river flooded his mind. Sparrow calling him a coward as she readied herself for her final stand. His brash, foolish decision to make that stand with her, when all he'd wanted was to run with her far away from that place and hunt down their treasure. He could see the savages closing in on them, how strange they looked to him, and how vaguely familiar they were. He remembered the blow-darts, aimed for both of them. How he'd not had enough time to stop all of them. And then Sparrow falling.

Reaver covered his face with his hands, feeling for all the world like the fool's fool. What had possessed him to something so utterly stupid? Through his ill-conceived actions he'd allowed himself to be taken prisoner, had actually taken the blow meant for Sparrow and been too incapacitated to do more than kill one of those savages before the rest dragged him away. Given one more second of time, he could have taken a different course, but – but there just hadn't been time enough, not even for him. There hadn't been another option. Not if he'd wanted to protect Sparrow.

And he'd needed to protect her... More than that, he'd _wanted_ to. And so he'd taken that one precious second and done the unimaginable – pushed her out of harm's way, and as a result, taken the blow in her place. Without hesitation. Without stopping to think about what would happen to _him_ after the fact. He hadn't thought of himself. In that one second, he'd recognized the danger she was in, his heart had stilled its beating, and just like that _he_ no longer mattered. There was only Sparrow, and his heart's demand that he keep her safe, no matter the cost. And it was a demand he'd been helpless to deny... When had he become so soft that he would allow himself to be controlled by such a sentimental emotion as love?

Reaver started at the unintentional thought, and his hands fell from his face and landed in his lap. _Love_? It couldn't be possible. He'd told Sparrow he would love her because that was what she wanted, and because he couldn't stand to be without her and would do whatever it took to keep her by his side, but he'd assumed it would simply be a matter of loving her physically, keeping her satisfied both under the bed sheets and otherwise. He'd never imagined it would imply any self-sacrifice on his part. He'd never considered that he would ever take a stand beside her in a battle he knew was foolish to fight, nor that he would do something so absurd as sacrifice himself and allow her to escape. It was just so... so... irrational. Irrationally overpowering. Even if he could go back to that very second right now and do it all over again, he had the horrible feeling that nothing would have stopped him from taking that same illogical course. It had been imperative to him then, and it would be the same now. He couldn't even bring himself to feel a shred of regret. And he was helpless in the face of it.

_Love_. The love poets and bards attempted to quantify and immortalize in words. The kind he himself scoffed at, believing it to be nothing more than a passing fancy that people used to control each other, that would inevitably be overcome by another powerful yet equally fleeting emotion. But this... this was much, much more. Sparrow wasn't controlling him. His heart was, and on some level it occured to him that that should repulse him. His dark, icy, pitiless heart loved her more than he loved himself. It was in league with Sparrow now.

Sparrow... He almost sighed as images of her crowded his mind. He could almost see her delicate face before him. It appeared soft, but belied her strength. He saw her lips, full and inviting, lips that would reveal her stubbornness, her sheer determination. He could see her emerald eyes, how they glimmered with courage... how they spit fire at him when he angered her... how they seemed to soften when she looked at him and thought he wasn't paying attention... A small part of him believed he would cease to exist without that look in her eyes. In his vision, he even imagined he could feel her flaming gold-and-red hair against his skin. His fingers practically itched to run his fingers through it, and in that second he realized he might not get the chance again. What if she left him behind? What if she didn't come after him? Even as he thought it, he equally dreaded the idea that she _would_ come for him. If she was caught and captured, his sacrifice would have been a waste; would he even know if it happened? When he found a way to escape, as he inevitably would, would it be _him_ leaving her behind? No... no, surely she would lead their crew to safety first? Sparrow put her duties above all else, she would not abandon the men to the horrors of this place, not even if she returned the love he felt for her. He felt certain he could count on that.

As hollow as it made him feel to think she would leave him behind, it didn't matter; it would mean she was safe, and after he made his own escape, he would find her wherever she went. He had promised to never let her go, and he would keep that promise. His heart was hers, and it would follow her anywhere.

* * *

Author's Note: Just wanted to throw in, for those who didn't catch my play on phrases, when Sparrow said "Leave a candle burning for me" it was about the equivalent of saying "Leave a light on for me". You know, for when she comes home.


	32. Point of No Return

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable, or Albion, or Sparrow, or Sexy Reaver, or anything associated with any of it. My crazed imaginatin is just enjoying itself way too much.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to my readers for your patience. I have been busy like crazy doing research and work on my original story, it takes up SO much of my time, but I absolutely have to do it. It's so much work that if I don't make it my top priority, I'll never get it I finally made some time, sat down, and got another chapter written for Sparrow and Reaver.

Now, I've already said this before at least once in response to some of my reviewers, but I want to say it again because some people might be getting the wrong idea: This story is not going to have the same ending as the Bloodstone Manor Affair. I promise you. It may seem to be going in that direction for the moment, but trust in me that I have my reasons, and trust that the ending of this story is something else entirely. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you're inclined to review, I'll be delighted to read it.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two

Point of No Return

The first light of dawn found Sparrow perched in the highest branches of a thick, prehistoric-looking tree, gazing outward at the horizon. For three days and nights she had been relentlessly tracking her quarry, and the strain was beginning to show. Dark circles hovered beneath her eyes as she scanned the terrain before her, evidence that she had hardly stopped to rest or sleep, and she saw, to her increasing dread, that the path she was racing headlong down seemed to be leading her straight toward the unnaturally symmetrical mountain that was growing to enormous proportions in the distance. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the piercing sunlight as she studied the imposing sight, thinking that she had never seen anything like it in her life; it overshadowed everything in the valley and was much too large to have been made by human hands, yet it was so perfectly shaped that she could not imagine anything in nature that might have created it.

Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest the longer she stared at it. It almost felt as though fate were forcibly leading her toward this place, had been guiding her to it ever since she and Reaver had left Bloodstone, but that sounded ridiculous even in her own head. It wasn't fate, it was the map that had brought them here. She and the Pirate had chosen to follow it, had been lured here by the temptation of riches and adventure. Fate had nothing to do with it... But then, how had the map even come to be? How had it fallen into their hands? Try as she might, she couldn't remember what the Pirate had said when she'd asked him about it. Who could have written the map? Who knew of this place, much less the alleged treasure hidden within?

The questions buzzed around her head as she clambered back down through the branches, and she sincerely hoped that the tracks would veer off in another direction soon. One might have thought it convenient that she wasn't being taken off her original course, yet now that she was alone, now that she was being baited into following, and the bait was someone whom she would go to heroic lengths to follow... For Sparrow it was too much of a coincidence that these tribals were leading her to the exact place she had been struggling toward all along. She no longer anticipated the thought of what she might at the end of this road; indeed, she was a mite grateful that Gresham had been wounded, so that her crew was not here, and apart of her even wished she had turned back with them. But she couldn't leave without Reaver; only thoughts of him were strong enough to force her onward.

Sparrow hit the ground running as she dropped the last twenty feet to the forest floor, and she kept an eye on the ground as she ran to make certain she was still following the tracks. Her lungs and muscles were burning as she dodged through trees and jumped over fallen logs, and fatigue beat at her relentlessly, but she couldn't stop.

Over and over she reminded herself that Reaver was alive. She couldn't stop to wonder _why_ she was chasing after him with such abandon, she couldn't even believe in the thought that he would go to the ends of the earth to rescue _her_, but she was committed to this path and there was no going back. No matter where these tracks led her, he would be there at the end. She couldn't stop, couldn't rest, couldn't retreat.

_Reaver_..._ just wait for me_..._ I_'_m coming_...

* * *

By the Pirate's own reckoning, three days had passed since he'd first woken up in his dark, underground prison, although he couldn't rightly be certain. His only measurement of time were the meals that had been forthcoming on a regular basis; while it had been a relief to know that his captors did not intend to starve him, the constant isolation and boredom were starting to wear him down. His only company were the regular visits of his warden come to feed him, and despite his attempts to bribe, interrogate, seduce, and threaten the man, he merely passed the ample meal of bread, cheese, fruit, and water through the bars of Reaver's cell and departed without a word, taking the torchlight with him. The most he had learned from those brief visits was that there was more than one cell in this dismal pit; they seemed to be lined up in rows, and there was another set across from his, their empty bars facing him. Bereft of light, conversation, or entertainment, his only true distraction was the task of finding a way to escape from his cell, but so far that had proved fruitless. Try as he might he could not budge the heavy iron grill that held fast between him and his freedom; there was no lock, no hinges, no means of opening his cage that he could find, and yet they had to have brought him in here somehow. His progress was doubly impeded by the constant darkness, which left him feeling around the room with his hands like a blind man. It was little wonder that he found nothing!

Despondency was becoming the Pirate's constant companion. He'd taken for granted that his escape would be simple, he'd assumed that in a day or two he'd have left this place behind and would catch up with Sparrow back at the little village by the river, but now he was truly beginning to fear that he would find no escape. He was not permitted out of his cell for any reason. He couldn't get a word out of his warden, nor could he gain an audience with anyone in charge. Yet for some reason, he had been well-taken care of. He was fed and watered; he had been given poultices and bandages and the wound on his neck was now completely healed; he'd even had his clothes taken and cleaned while he'd been given a chance to bathe, though it had amounted to nothing more than a clean cloth, a bar of some kind of homemade soap, and a small bucket of tepid water. While it most certainly _not_ the kind of accommodations he was used to, it was obvious that they were keeping him alive and well for a reason.

When he'd finally given up on finding an escape, he spent hours staring into the darkness and wondering to himself about what that reason could be. Did they have some kind of task that only someone of his prodigious Skill could accomplish? _If that's the case, I_'_ll be demanding due compensation for that and everything else I_'_ve been through_... Or perhaps he was to become some kind of love-slave as a gift to their chief? _Assuming these heathens even have such a hierarchy_, _that doesn_'_t sound like such a terrible fate_... _Within a day or two_, _I_'_ll be the one ruling over the tribe_... Or, on the other hand, they could at this very moment be planning some festival at which they would use him as a ritual sacrifice him to some old world God... _Still_,_ parties usually mean dancing and sex_,_ though the actual dying part afterward would be a truly unfitting end for a man such as myself_... And then of course, there was always the chance that they weren't taking care of him at all, but were fattening him up in preparation for the 'main course'... _If they_'_ve chosen to eat _that_ kind of meat_,_ at least they really couldn_'_t have pick a better specimen_... And then came the truly disconcerting thought... Did they expect Sparrow to come after him? Were they lying in wait for her, and using him as the bait? But then, why keep him alive? They could have taken him from the ledge by the cliff, killed him, dumped his body, and she wouldn't have known any better. No, that couldn't be it. And if it was, they were in for a severe disappointment. As much as he wanted to see her, wanted to feel her close to him, he was confident and content in knowing that Sparrow would take care of her crew first. She would be smart enough to stay away from this place, and be confident in his ability to escape on his own. So long as Sparrow was safe somewhere far away from here, he could endure his captivity in his arrogant stride, gloating in the fact that his captors had gone through all this trouble for nothing. And when they eventually realized she wasn't coming... what then?

Would they execute him? The Pirate cringed at the thought. Death was certainly not on his agenda in this lifetime. That thought would immediately send the Pirate back to his feet, once again feeling around the cell with his hands, desperately looking for a way out.

* * *

Three more days had come and gone, and Sparrow was now standing high in the treetops, staring with wide eyes at the awe-inspiring sight before her. At long last she had reached the base of the strange mountain, and only now did she realize it was not a mountain at all. Despite her dread at being there, she couldn't help but be amazed. The structure had to be over five-hundred feet tall, and was built in the shape of a four-sided triangle; it was made from perfectly hewn stones that made enormous steps that seemed to lead right up into the heavens. The steps were big enough for a giant to walk up, but along the side facing her there was a column of smaller steps, millions of them, that led straight up the side and all the way to the top, which disappeared into the low-hanging clouds. She couldn't imagine who would have the power to build such a thing, but it had to be thousands of years old; the stone was obviously aged, and there were moss, vines, flowers, and even trees growing right on it.

Sparrow contemplated it as she considered what she'd found at the base of the structure. This... thing, whatever it was, was surrounded by a wide, sprawling village that encompassed each side of the base of the structure, and was inhabited by what were probably the descendants of whoever had built it. She knew she had arrived at the right place; not only had the tracks led her more or less to their front door, but the people milling around the village had the same dark skin and hide clothing, and snippets of their native tongue floated up to her hiding place in the tree tops. The longer she studied the village, the more she came to the conclusion that there was no getting through it undetected; she had been covertly observing the layout of the mud-and-stone houses and dirt roads for hours, but the village was built like a maze. Even if she risked hanging her head out of the foliage and studied the place for days, and even if she did manage to infiltrate the place, she would have to do it under the cover of darkness, and if she made one wrong turn she would become hopelessly lost. There wasn't even a guarantee that she would be able to find her way out again. And even if she didn't get lost, how would she find the Pirate? They could be keeping him anywhere, assuming they hadn't gone ahead and killed him. She would never find him on her own, even if the whole village evacuated and she had a week to conduct a thorough and unhindered search.

Her expression grew darker and darker as she contemplated what might be the only option open to her. If Reaver was indeed being held captive, then her only option might indeed to be taken captive herself. If she turned herself over, there was a chance they would take her to wherever they were keeping the Pirate.

Sparrow swallowed hard as she let this thought sink in. If she tried to find him herself, she might very well be captured anyway, but then they would treat her as nothing more than an intruder. But if she gave herself up peaceably, perhaps they would be more open to negotiation. If she could communicate to them that they weren't hostile intruders to be treated with fear, but were simple explorers, maybe she could convince them to let her and Reaver go, or even to help them find the treasure they'd come for. Of course, there was always the chance that they would simply imprison her, torture her, and eventually kill her, but she had survived and escaped the Spire; she had to believe she had what it would take to survive this.

Her hands trembling slightly, Sparrow swiped the back of her sleeve across her forehead to wipe away the sudden beads of sweat that had nothing to do with the humidity. It was a risky, dangerous plan, but at this point, her only other option was turning around and going back, and she couldn't, _wouldn_'_t_ do that. She had come for Reaver, and she wasn't leaving without him. There was no going back; she could only move forward.

With grim determination, she climbed back down from the tree and touched down on the path beneath her, then, her fingers trembling even more violently, she unbuckled Jack's sword and sheath from around her waist, then slung the rifle off her shoulder. After unloading the weapon, she held it and the sword passively in her hands, then, before her courage failed her, she squared her shoulders, and marched determinedly toward the village.

To her surprise, her presence was not immediately noticed. She broke through the foliage that was hiding her from view and stood in full sunlight for roughly a full minute, staring out apprehensively at the houses within her view. There were people coming and going and talking to each other in their incomprehensible language, but none of them looked up and saw her standing there. Confused, she watched them for another minute, until she found the courage to take a few more steps closer. Halfway between the nearest house and forest's edge, she stopped again, then, deciding they probably weren't expecting her, she loudly cleared her throat.

The effect of this simple gesture was incongruous by Sparrow's way of thinking. Every tribal within earshot stopped what they were doing to stare at her, and after only moments of stunned silence, several of the men grabbed the weapons nearest and began to charge at her, shouting in alarm for others to join them. Before Sparrow even had time to blink, several more came pouring out from around the village and she quickly found herself surrounded; not knowing what else to do to placate them, she threw down her weapons onto the ground several feet in front of her, fell gracelessly to her knees, and put her hands and face to the ground. For a brief moment, she felt a tremor of fear; it was not a part of her practice to throw aside her weapons and prostrate herself before a hostile horde of angry men wielding all manner of sharp and pointy objects, and she found herself desperately praying to Avo that she would not be set upon and stabbed relentlessly until she had more holes than skin. He must have heard her prayer, or perhaps her gesture had been the correct one, because the shouting and clanging of weapons ceased, and there was nothing but silence once again. Briefly, she peeked up from the ground at the lot of them; they were staring down at her with ill-concealed mistrust, but they made no move to harm her.

Minutes seemed to pass as they stared down at her, yet none of them made a move or a sound. What were they waiting for? Were they deciding whether or not to kill her?

"Gheruk üzmek!"

Sparrow nearly jumped at the harsh command that seemed to ring through the air. No one in the circle had spoken, but a second later it was made clear that the command was not spoken to her. The men before her were parting the circle, opening a wide pathway, and when they finally cleared, she peered up to see a tall, important-looking man covered in tattoos and tribal furs. He was clearly advanced in years, perhaps a leader among the tribe, and he looked down at her with a healthy mix of curiosity and suspicion. Frightened as she was, Sparrow felt a small wave of relief that he at least was not looking down at her with hostility. The entire group, including Sparrow herself, seemed to hold their breath as they waited for the man to speak; when he finally did, it was in the same sharp, commanding tone as before.

"Öz elleri baglamaq!"

Without hesitation, the two men closest to him separated themselves from the group and roughly pulled Sparrow up from the ground by her elbows, pulled them painfully behind her back and began to tie her, elbow to elbow, wrist to wrist. She did not allow herself a noise of pain, and refused to struggle and give them reason to consider her a threat. Instead she tried to tell them she meant no harm, tried to explain why she was there, but the sounds only seemed to come out in stutters.

"Sükut!" the leader said in terse tones, and this time Sparrow did understand, because the man held a finger to his own lips. She immediately fell silent, and he seemed content. The moment the men were done tying her, a strip of cloth was secured over her eyes, and she was being dragged blind through the village.

It wasn't long before Sparrow was completely lost. The road they took seemed to twist and turn in every direction, and try as she might, she could not wriggle enough to make the blindfold slip. Every time she tried, one of the men jostled her roughly and shouted something that sounded distinctly like a command. She could hear dozens of footsteps following them, and assumed the others were escorting them, probably to make certain she did not escape. Deliberately, Sparrow forced herself to remain passive and calm, to appear as though she had no reason or inclination to resist, and focused instead on what she could sense. Over the dozens of footsteps, she could distinctly hear whispering, and in her head an image formed of herself being paraded through the village like some political prisoner bound for the gallows. She shook her head to clear her mind of the image, and received another jostle for her efforts. She could also smell food, and hear the distinct sounds of wood and stone being carved. There were cries from children, as well as the shushing of mothers, and grumbles from men who must be watching the spectacle.

And then all went quiet. The parade of footsteps stopped; now there were only three in addition to her own, and they seemed to echo oddly. She shivered as the air became abruptly cool against her skin. It took Sparrow a moment to realize she must be under ground, or more likely, inside the enormous stone structure the village was built around. Was their leader housed here? Or was this where they kept their prisoners? Were they taking her to Reaver? Or perhaps to a pit where she would be left to rot?

At long last she was forced to a halt, and then she heard a peculiar sound of grinding stone; she was so concentrated on trying to figure out where the sound was coming from that it took her a moment to realize that someone was untying her. When the rope was tossed aside, two manacles were added to her wrists. They felt strange to her; not only were the manacles not chained together, but the metal was very light, and surprisingly warm, as though they had been left out to bake in the sun. Just as she was trying to work out this puzzle, two sets of hands lifted her off the floor, and it took great self control for Sparrow not to flail and struggle when she felt herself being lowered again... deeper... deeper... and then, without warning, the hands let go. She let out a gasp of shock as she fell through nothingness, but before she could even draw in another breath to scream, her feet hit the ground. She stumbled and her hands flew out to stop herself from falling; her palms scraped painfully against a rough stone wall. Immediately she jerked the blindfold off her eyes, but it did her little good; the room around her was black as pitch, and again she could hear the sounds of grinding stone, but now it was coming from above her. They were burying her alive!

"No! Stop!" she cried desperately, reaching up hopelessly toward the ceiling, but the cover was already settled into place. "Don't leave me in here!"

"Sparrow?"

Sparrow gasped and looked around desperately, but of course she could see nothing in the darkness.

"Reaver?" she whispered fearfully, hoping the sound had not been a figment of her imagination.

"Sparrow! What are you doing here?" she heard the Pirate all but yell into the darkness.

Taken aback by his abrupt tone, she snapped tersely, "I came to rescue you!"

Reaver let out an inelegant snort. "Some rescue," he said mockingly.

Sparrow blushed at this comment, grateful that he couldn't see her. "Yeah... well, it's a work in progress."

"You were supposed to be long gone from this place," he growled, sounding strangely disbelieving that she hadn't left him behind, and she could hear a shuffling of feet to her left. She turned and walked slowly in the direction of the noise with her hands outstretched, but was almost immediately halted by a heavy grill of rough metal bars.

"And leave you behind to fend for yourself?" she scoffed, now feeling irritated at his tone. "If you'd have found a way out, I think you'd be gone by now."

"And if I had? You'd be trapped in here, alone, and for what?" she heard him bite out.

Sparrow felt horribly upset and confused. She had been through so much just to get here, hadn't stopped to sleep or rest, and she'd thought at the very least that Reaver would be relieved that she had come after him, maybe even pleased that she had not left him behind and fled, but all she could hear in his voice was anger.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded. "Did you honestly think I would leave you behind, especially after... after everything?"

"What I _thought_ was that you would do what _you_ would do," he said. "I expected you to put your crew first, that you would get them and yourself to safety. I expected that I would rendezvous with you after I escaped this wretched hole. What I did _not_ expect was that you would get trapped and thrown in here along with me."

Feeling her way around her prison, Sparrow said, "I _did_ find the crew first, and I _did_ send them to safety." And then, more scathingly, "So how _is_ that escape plan coming? Have you even found a way out, or are you just biding your time? Planning to lure them into a false sense of security to make your grand escape all that much more dramatic?"

She received no response to this, and felt mildly pleased at having the last word. The silence gave her time to regroup, and, after fighting down the urge to start shouting in exhaustion and frustration, she began to feel her way around her cell with her hands, gauging the proportions and looking for a possible weak spot in the walls. The Pirate must have deduced what she was doing by the sounds of her shuffling, because after a while he said, "You won't find anything. I looked my cell over at least a thousand times and found no way out. The bars seemed to be built right into the stone and go right down into the floor."

"It makes sense, considering they dropped me in through a hole in the floor above us. Perhaps I could use fire to break through the bars," she wondered. "I need to rest and build up my Will, but I might be able to create a flame hot enough to at least weaken the metal so I can kick through it."

"Or to blast them apart," the Pirate said, sounding almost hopeful now.

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Sparrow said discouragingly. "It could cause a cave in and bring the whole structure down on our heads."

"What structure?"

"I don't know what it's called," Sparrow tiredly, finding the rough straw pallet behind her and collapsing on it. "It's enormous though. It reaches right up into the sky, but it's built like a triangle, with enormous steps leading all the way to the top –"

"A pyramid," came Reaver's voice out of the darkness. "I've seen them once before, but they were thousands of miles from this place."

"Well, no matter what it's called, I figure we're either underground, or inside this 'pyramid', or both. Creating an explosion could be dangerous."

Silence fell again, and Sparrow sagged back against the wall; her lack of sleep or rest, combined with the upheaval of Reaver's unexpected anger, suddenly overwhelmed her. She could feel unconsciousness coming to claim her, but still she fought it, not ready to give up yet.

"Would you honestly have preferred that I didn't come after you?" she asked; she sounded dejected and pathetic even to her own ears, but right now, it didn't seem to matter all that much.

She was left with silence for several minutes, and her heart sank abysmally when no answer was forthcoming. She waited for as long as she could stand before she finally sighed. "I see," she whispered. "Forget it. You don't have to answer." She sank down onto her pallet then and turned toward the wall. "I'm here now anyway, so what's done is done."

After curling into a ball of misery, she tucked one arm under her head and was ready to succumb to exhaustion when his voice finally broke through the silence.

"I didn't want you to come after me because I didn't want you to end up here," Reaver said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "That day next to the river... it happened so fast, I wasn't even certain at first why I'd done what I did. But I've had days down here to remember how I felt when I saw you, standing on that ledge, with poison darts racing toward your throat. I pushed you into the river so you could get away. I'd intended to follow you, but I ended up being captured instead, and even that was acceptable so long as I knew you were safe."

Sparrow turned back toward him, though they could not see each other, and her lips were parted in mute surprise. She was so tired that she could hardly understand what he was telling her, but it sounded suspiciously like... Did he even know what he was saying? It was true he'd had days alone to himself to contemplate his situation, as she had, but her take was that he'd been a fool to do what he did. To hear that he meant to let her escape, to keep her safe, as though her safety was of unparalleled importance to him... to hear those words from his mouth... it evaporated her frustration and brought an unexpected and inexplicable ache to her heart.

"I was prepared to stand and fight by your side, to the very last," she finally said, sounding half-asleep even to her own ears.

"I know," the Pirate affirmed softly.

"And that hasn't changed," she added, more firmly. "We started this journey together. We'll find a way back."

They both went silent then, lost in their private musings. Sparrow wanted to say more, she meant to, but before she could even think another thought, she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Hours must have passed, and still Sparrow slept.

Reaver did not sleep. Instead he rested on his pallet, listening to her slow, even breathing until it was more familiar to him than his own reflection in the mirror. It was a relief to hear, after so many days and nights of silent solitude, but it was also a constant reminder that his sacrifice had been in vain. Sparrow had come for him after all; now she was trapped in a cage, just like him, and despite Sparrow's optimism, there was no guarantee that they would ever find a way out. He regretted losing his temper with her when all he'd wanted was to hold her, to kiss her senseless, but the fact was they were now both trapped, and if he, the master escape artist, hadn't found a way out of this cell...

But then, he had to admit, Sparrow could do things he couldn't. She could summon fire in the palm of her hand, could manipulate lightning, and could conjure blades out of thin air. If she could indeed weaken the bars with enough heat, she might even still have the Strength to break them if she tried hard enough. But then there was still the matter of getting out of here. They had no weapons, and though Sparrow had not elaborated on what was waiting for them outside of this place, he had no illusions that they would just be able to stroll on out of here.

A sudden gasp echoed through the underground prison, and Reaver sat straight up, listening closely.

"Reaver?"

"I am here," he said softly, moving closer to her, though he knew he could never reach her. He stopped at his bars, his hands pressed against them, listening to the sound of Sparrow pulling herself into a sitting position.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"A few hours, I think," he said. "They haven't come to feed us yet, so it can't have been too long."

"So they'll be feeding us?" she said, sounding a bit relieved. "At least that's one less thing to worry about."

"While I have been reasonably taken care of," he said repressively, "I'm not certain how or if that's going to change now that you're here."

"Why would that change?" she asked groggily, still trying to clear the sleep from her mind.

"I'm not sure," he said. "To be honest, I don't even know why they didn't just starve me in the first place, though I have my theories."

When he did not elaborate, Sparrow urged him on. "And those are?"

"Well, the one that's starting to seem more likely is that they were waiting for you," he said. "I'll bet half my fortune they were expecting you to follow me."

Sparrow nodded, even though she knew he could not see her. "I was thinking the same thing as I chased after them. The way they attacked us – it was too evasive. They weren't trying to kill us. I think capture was their intent all along."

"But why?" Reaver asked in frustration, having come up with no answer to the question himself.

"I haven't any idea," Sparrow admitted quietly. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Are you still angry that I'm here?"

"Furious," the Pirate said succinctly, though without heat. "Why, Sparrow? Why did you have to follow me when you knew they were trying to capture you?"

Sparrow opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated for a moment, wondering what she should say. The way he put the question, she found she wasn't sure how to answer. "Why did you have to push me into the river and risk your own neck?" Sparrow countered. "You had more than one opportunity to cut and run. You chose to stand and fight, and when it looked like the worst was coming, you chose to save me."

"I _had_ to save you," the Pirate corrected before he could stop himself.

His proclamation was followed by a ringing silence, until finally Sparrow said, "What do you mean you _had_ to save me?"

"I couldn't not do anything," he admitted, his voice sounding strained. "I saw the darts coming, and I had to act. Those needles could have been tipped with anything, even poisons, perhaps ones we've never encountered. There were so many, there wasn't enough time, even for me, and so I –"

"All the more reason for you to have fled," she pointed out. "Yes, there was no knowing, and yes, there were more than even you could handle. But even in knowing that, you still –"

"Yes, I still did it," he said harshly. "And as foolish and rash and potentially lethal as that decision was, given the chance, I wouldn't even try to stop myself from doing it again."

After a moment of complete silence, a moment in which Sparrow speechlessly absorbed what he'd said; she had never imagined Reaver admitting such a thing, just as she couldn't imagine that he found her freedom to be more important than his own. She didn't even think he was capable of such a thing, yet his actions said otherwise. Was he saying, in his way, what she thought he was? Did he actually – _truly_ care for her? This man who had never loved anyone but himself?

Reaver's voice suddenly broke through her thoughts. "But enough about my stupidity. You still haven't explained yours."

"I suppose my reason is the same," she said after a pause. "I couldn't _not_ come after you. I wasn't going to just – just abandon you to your fate. Not if I could do something – anything to help."

"Are you saying that you saying that you felt guilty because I was captured and you weren't?" he asked. Then, without giving her the chance to respond, he added, "Or is it possible that you were afraid for me? That you needed to come for me?"

"What do you mean?" Sparrow whispered.

"You know what I mean," the Pirate said quietly. "Did you feel it, deep down, that you had to be here with me, no matter what might come?"

Again, Sparrow was grateful for the darkness; even she couldn't imagine what mix of emotions might be flickering across her face at that moment. "I followed after you for days without sleep, without rest, and even though the whole time I was dreading what I was going to find here, I couldn't turn back. Yes, I had to follow you. With every fiber of my being, I had to be here with you, no matter what it might happen."

Sparrow went completely silent after she finished speaking; though her words were succinct, never had she laid herself out so bare before another person, and to do so for Reaver left her feeling both excited and terrified. She had a feeling she had just revealed more of herself to him than she ever wanted to, and even in the safety of the darkness, she couldn't help but be afraid of his response.

"Well, that settles it," Reaver finally said, his tone so cheerful in contrast to his tone since she'd arrived that Sparrow honestly thought that someone else had joined them in their dark prison. "Now, about the matter of our escape –"

"Wait a minute," Sparrow cut him off. "What's settled?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the Pirate asked, sounding more and more like his typical, arrogant self. "I've said all along that I needed you, and now that you've admitted the same to me. I'd say the only thing left is for us to wed. All that remains is for us to get out of –"

"You most certainly have _not_ said that all along," Sparrow huffed, now getting to her feet and hardly able to believe what she was hearing. "And we still lead two completely different lives. We are _not_ having any type of discussion about marriage, especially not while were sitting here in an underground hole waiting for our fate to come for us."

"You're right, we'll deal with escaping first," the Pirate agreed pleasantly, completely unphased by her less-than-enthusiastic response. "You said something about being able to create fire hot enough to weaken the bars. Fancy giving that a try right about now?"

"I think we should wait," Sparrow said reasonably, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. "You said they have been feeding you. It was early afternoon when I let them capture me. If I was only asleep for a few hours and they haven't yet brought supper, I'd say it's too soon. We'll want to try this at night, or they'll notice us missing when they bring food. And I'll warn you, getting out through the village won't be easy. I studied the layout from the trees, and the village is built like a maze. Probably to keep intruders from getting in, or escaping."

"We'll figure that out later," the Pirate said easily. "If worse comes to worse, we'll make our own path right over the rooftops. We'll be out of here in a trice."

"Fine, but we should rest so we're ready when the time comes," Sparrow suggested. "I haven't really slept in days, and I'll need all my Will if I'm going to attempt to burn our way out of these bars."

"Oh, very well," he said, sounding mildly impatient with the idea of waiting when freedom was so close. "I suppose the idea has some merit."

Sparrow smiled to herself as she resettled on her cot. Just as she was drifting back to sleep, a thought occurred to her, and as she slipped away she whispered, "And thank you."

"For what?" the Pirate asked, his voice seeming to come from the end of a long tunnel.

"You know," she said, yawning through the words. "For pushing me into the river."

A low chuckle echoed through the darkness and followed her into her dreams.

* * *

Author's Note: Ta-da! And that's all for now, folks. Again, I'm very sorry for the long wait. I really do hate leaving my readers waiting for so long. Anyoo, I'll be posting again soon, and I have no plans of taking nearly as long, so keep a weather eye on the horizon (and your inbox) and you'll be hearing from me again soon.


	33. Strength, Skill, and the Hero of Will

Disclaimer: I do not own Fable.

Author's Note Again, I apologize for the long awaited update. It's been long in coming, I know, but there's just been so much going on. I've been working obsessively on my original story, which is quite a time-consuming project. And also, my grandmother passed away last week. It was her time though. She lived a long, full life, 84 years of life, and had been suffering for years with Dementia, so she no longer knew who she was or knew her family. As bad as it was, it was a blessing for her to pass. We had her wake just last Saturday, and after that, I suddenly had to write this chapter. Besides, I wouldn't want you guys to think this story was going to remain incomplete. I WILL be finishing it, no matter what it takes. It just might take time, and that I do apoligize for. Again.

Now, as for this chapter, I've been particularly apprehensive about this new twist in the plot, but after I looked at it from all angles, it comes down to the fact that this is the way the story wants to be written, so all I could was write it as best I could. I do hope you enjoy it, especially since I've left you all hanging for so long. If you're inclined, please leave a review. You all know how much I love your feedback.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three

Strength, Skill, and the Hero of Will

When Sparrow awoke next, she had the distinct impression that she had been asleep for a long time. Her eyes snapped open as she shot straight up into a sitting position, and for several moments felt completely disoriented. She was surrounded by stone walls, _that_ she remembered, but there was something off... The light! The chamber was bathed in light, where before there had been only darkness. Desperately she looked around for the source of it, but before she found it, her eyes met and locked with Reaver's. The light from a nearby torch was flickering over him, illuminating half his features. He looked inhuman with half his face in darkness, but even so, the darkness could not hide the stark need in his eyes. It was as though there were no one else in the world but the two of them, and down here in this forbidding world, Sparrow could almost believe it was true. It was not the first time Reaver had looked at her with such intensity, but this was unsettlingly different; he looked at her as though she were the first light he'd seen after an eternity of darkness, and the way he seemed to stare right into her made her feel extremely self-conscious.

"Where did the torch come from?" she asked softly when she could no longer bear the tension.

"Our hospitable warden left it behind," Reaver answered, sounding mildly amused. "An unexpected move on their part. In the days past they've left me to eat my meager meals in the dark. Perhaps this is some kind of promotion?"

"Perhaps, though I somehow doubt it," Sparrow said, standing slowly from her pallet and stretching. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I made the attempt," he said, watching her as she gathered the cloth bundle of food from the floor of her cell. "You must have been truthful when you said you'd hardly stopped to rest in your pursuit of me."

Sparrow felt her cheeks grow warm, and she quickly looked down as she retook her seat on her straw pallet and opened the bundle. It wasn't difficult to guess why she felt so embarrassed. It had been one thing to admit what she'd endured to reach Reaver while they were hidden away in darkness and she was on the brink of collapse; it was something else entirely when she was awake and alert and could see every expression on his arrogantly handsome face.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, deciding it was best to avoid that topic.

"Several hours, I think," he said, "though my judgement isn't to be trusted on the matter. I'll admit my sense of time has been rather dulled by the passing of the centuries."

"I imagine it would be near impossible to track time down here anyway," Sparrow surmised, then ripped a huge bite out of a chunk of bread, vaguely wondering where it had come from. As ravenous as she was, she was not want to question her food, but as she thought it through, she hadn't seen any form of wheat crops in her perusal of the village, and she couldn't imagine that they grew naturally in these parts of the world.

Tucking the puzzle away, she took a more thorough glance around her cell, now that she was able to see her surroundings. The stone was dark and pitted, and looked to be as old as time itself. That bars were clearly a newer addition, and seemed to built right into the stone and burrowed deep into the ground. Digging their way out might have been an option, but there was no telling how deep down those bars might go.

"Where did you procure those?"

Sparrow looked at the Pirate, who was staring at her hands. She looked down, and for the first time remembered the metal shackles that had been placed on her wrists before she'd been dropped into this hole. They looked like silver bracelets, though the metal was still as warm as it would have been if left laying out in the sunshine.

"Our captors put them on me. Intriguing, aren't they?" she said, holding them up to the light. "Shackles without any chain. Why would anyone invent such a thing?"

The Pirate was scowling darkly, and he got to his feet, coming as close to her as he could with the bars blocking his path, and said, "Let me look."

Sparrow stood and stuck her arms through the bars so he could get a good look at them. Reaver studied them from across the small, earthen corridor, a dark scowl still marring his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling her hands back.

"I've come across something similar in my travels, though I never found any use for them," Reaver said. "And unless I've missed my mark, we won't be escaping anytime soon."

"Why?" Sparrow asked, her throat feeling oddly tight.

"Use your Will," he said evenly. "Try to break us out."

Suddenly feeling very nervous, Sparrow swallowed hard and nodded, holding her hands before her as she tried to summon the arcane flames that would have the power to set them free. When nothing happened, it became even harder to breathe, and she tried for a different spell, summoning the lightning, the magic that had unexpectedly come to her in her hour of need, but again, nothing. Gritting her teeth, she tried to slide them off over her wrists as she'd done before with the shackles that she'd worn when locked away in the Pirate's brig, but they silver bangles only seemed to grow tighter and tighter the harder she tried, until she was forced to stop lest they cut off the flow of blood to her hands.

"Not shackles," she said finally, staring down at her wrists in dismay.

"No," the Pirate said, scowling even more darkly. "At least not in the conventional sense."

Looking up at him, Sparrow said the only words that came to her mind. "What will we do?"

Reaver had no answer, so he said nothing. He retook his spot on his pallet and stared darkly into nothingness, and Sparrow could not even guess what was going on under the surface. Her own mind had gone unpleasantly blank. Her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed on her pallet, and what was left of her meal no longer held any appeal to her, so she pushed it aside.

For the first time, Sparrow felt truly trapped, and her mind was spinning around and around without coming up with anything useful. What would become of them?

The silenced passed between them for what felt like hours, and though she was still tired, Sparrow couldn't even think of sleep. Then, suddenly, between one thought and the next, a noise echoed through their prison. As though she'd been waiting for some kind of cue, she immediately jumped to her feet and looked through the bars imprisoning her, clutching them so hard her knuckles turned white. She could hear footsteps, and at last a face appeared before her. This one was a woman, which surprised her. She looked young, though obviously a woman, and was unusually tall, but beautiful, in her way. Her ebony skin was smooth and covered in many symbols and markings in vibrant hues of red, green, and blue that looked to have been inked into her very skin, and several colorful feathers and beads adorned her hair and hide-clothing. Her eyes were large and almond-shaped, and to Sparrow's surprise, they were a luminescent icy-blue.

The woman completely ignored the Pirate and came to a stop before her, and with her face in covered in shadow, a web of blue lines practically glimmered from her dark skin. Sparrow's mouth came slightly ajar as she registered what she was seeing. Will lines? "You're a Hero," she said dumbly. But how was it that this girl was a Hero? She only knew of three other Heroes, and the only one she knew of that was capable of using Will was Garth. It had never occurred to her that there might be others, or that she might come across any this far out in the middle of nowhere. Could it be that there were others out there, not gone, but simply hiding away from the world that had shunned and slaughtered the rest of their kind?

"I am no hero, but yes, I am like you."

Reaver's head snapped up at those words, and he jumped to his feet.

"Wait a minute," he said, looking incredulously at the back of the woman's head. "You can _understand_ us? Why didn't they just send you in the first place? I've been playing charades with that vacant-eyed half-wit all this time for nothing."

The woman ignored Reaver's outburst and Sparrow's stunned expression and simply said, "Chief Desik will be meeting with you very soon. When the time comes –"

"He wants to meet with me?" Sparrow said, unable to keep the relief from her voice. "That's great news. I came here hoping to negotiate with –"

"There will be no negotiation," the woman said with a tone of finality. "He was very pleased when he learned of your capture just outside our village. He wishes now to assess your powers and determine if you are a true descendent of William the Black."

"William the what?" Sparrow said. "I've never heard of him."

"Few remember him now, but his story is known well among our tribe. He is the fiend who stole the collective powers of our people and fled to a faraway land." The woman then placed a bucket a water on the ground just outside the bars of Sparrow's cell and hung a square of cloth over its ledge. "You will want to make yourself presentable, and I suggest you move quickly. Your escort will arrive soon to bring you before the chieftain."

"Wait!" Sparrow called out, but the woman walked out of her view until even her footsteps had disappeared. Looking to Reaver, she said, "Did you see her? She's a Hero of Will. How is that possible?"

"Oh, there are still some of us left," Reaver said indifferently. "Though I'll be the first to admit, I never expected to run into any out _here_."

"Hmmm." Sparrow looked at the patch of darkness the woman had disappeared into, then said, "What do you think this is all about?"

"I could only guess," the Pirate mused thoughtfully, again retaking his seat, "but I'd say our host has been waiting for an opportunity just like this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Did you not hear her mention William the Black?"

"Yes," Sparrow said. "But to my knowledge, I've never heard the name. Do you know him?"

"Not intimately," the Pirate said with a low chuckle. "He was nothing more than a legend at the time I was a youth. Today he's all but unheard of."

"Go on," Sparrow said, sitting herself on her pallet.

Reaver began to speak, but then smirked. "Not going to take that sponge bath?"

Sparrow looked at the wooden bucket awaiting her outside her cell. Though her skin practically crawled from all the layers of dirt and grime and sweat coating it, she had no desire whatsoever to take orders from her captors. "Not a chance."

"Come now," the Pirate said. "I've seen every lovely inch of you."

Sparrow flushed. "It's not because of you. I'm just not inclined to play the obedient prisoner. I won't let them think I'll be ordered around."

Reaver shrugged. "Ah, well, it was worth a try." Then, without seeming to draw a breath, he went on. "The story goes that William Black saved Albion from The Court, who burned, flooded, and tyrannize Albion in a quest for dominance."

"The Court?" Sparrow asked. "As in, the Court of Shadows?"

"There could be some connection. Some simpletons claim William was the first Hero, and the most powerful who ever lived, because it was he who defeated The Court and drove them away from Albion. Maybe it was true, maybe not, but according to the legends he wielded all three Heroic virtues. Seeing as you also possess them, that would be enough proof in most people's minds that you are his descendant."

Sparrow mulled this over for several silent minutes, then said, "And why would that matter? Who cares if I'm descended from this man who might or might not have been the savior of all of Albion?"

"The woman claimed he'd stole his powers from their people, or some such thing," the Pirate mused. "I gather they still hold some kind of grudge against him."

"After all this time?" Sparrow sputtered. "You can't be serious."

Reaver shrugged again. "It's just a theory. I could be wrong."

"But you're probably right," she said dejectedly. "So, what do they think they'll accomplish by punishing me for his transgressions?"

"Punishment may not be what they are thinking," he said slowly. "If there even is such a way a way to steal a Hero's powers, perhaps they are considering returning the favor."

Sparrow glared at Reaver. "You're _really_ not helping."

The Pirate smirked but wisely fell silent. Meanwhile, Sparrow was left with the horrible thought that everything that made her a Hero might possibly be taken from her. It was more than obvious now that this whole thing had been a trap, as she had already guessed, and while she had run into it willingly for a chance to save the man she lov – _cared for_, the idea was little comfort in the face of the uncertain prospects that might lie before her. How would she defend herself, weaponless as she was, and deprived even of her magic?

The silence continued on for several long minutes, and Sparrow was uncomfortably aware of the Pirate's eyes on her at all times. However she might like to think he was coming up with a plan, hope wasn't something she felt comfortable with cultivating at present; the fact was that she had never been in worse straights. Finally, the stone above her began to grind open, and she jumped to her feet, dismayed to see that a veritable battalion of warriors had been dispatched to escort her to the chieftain. At the same turn, she was both hopeful and perturbed the realize that the stone above Reaver's cell was also being drawn away. They were both being summoned? Though this could not possibly be a good sign, they also stood a better chance of escape together than separate.

A rope was dropped into her cell, and she latched securely onto it before they began to pull her up. Once her feet had touched the stone floor, she was immediately blindfolded again and her wrists were tied behind her back, and one hand held each elbow to guide her from the pyramid and through the winding maze-like paths that made up the village. Again, she could distinctly hear everything around her, as though her hearing had become keener in the absence of sight, and it was then, as she listened to the multitude of sounds wafting through the balmy air that she heard a voice speaking in her own tongue... a male voice. One that was distinctly familiar, though she had not heard in it many years.

"Garth?" she said uncertainly, coming to a halt. Her captors tried to nudge her forward, but her feet held firmly to the ground. "Garth? Garth! Is that you?"

A chattering of unfamiliar words drowned out the voice, but she could hear a pair of footsteps approaching them, and her captors released her elbows. Then, to her relief, the blindfold was lifted from her eyes and a familiar face materialized before her.

"It is you," she breathed before she could even speak. "I'd thought I might be imagining things."

"Garth?" interrupted an appalled voice from a few feet behind her. "Really? Now, this _is_ an interesting twist. Is this where you disappeared off to?"

"You tried to kill me," Garth said evenly in his deep voice. "You could hardly expect me to let you keep following me around after that."

"Pssh, I was better off on my own, I'll have you know. Without you leading me around through wet, dreary villages flung out in the middle of nowhere, I'm happy to say I found all the interesting bits that you clearly have no sense of appreciation for."

Garth shook his head, then turned to Sparrow as though the Pirate how not interrupted. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Sparrow." Then, after taking in her predicament, he added, "Well, I'm certain we could have met under better circumstances. This does seem to be a recurring trend for us, doesn't it."

Briefly, Sparrow thought of his imprisonment in the Spire, and the ten years of her life she'd sacrificed in the hopeless cause of setting him free, but she quickly pushed it aside and brought herself back to the present. It was only then that she realized the woman standing beside and just behind him; it was the woman who had brought the bucket of water to her, the woman who spoke their language.

"That explains a bit," she said.

Garth glanced over his shoulder and said, "Ah, yes. Sparrow, this is my daughter, Vaera."

"Daughter?"

"Daughter?" the Pirate chimed in. "Now _this_ is a surprise. I always thought you the chaste, monk type without the faintest idea of how to enjoy a woman."

Rolling her eyes, Sparrow cut in. "That at least explains how she comes to understand our words. But how it is that you have a daughter way out here –" Then, as though suddenly seeing the answer right before her, Sparrow closely at Garth, then at the tribals surrounding her, and said, "Garth, is this your _home_?"

"Yes," he said calmly. "This is where I was born, and these are my people. I left to sate my desire for knowledge, but returned here sometime after Reaver's attempt on my life. When I discovered Vaera, already a woman full-grown and married, I decided this is where I would stay. I find the world outside has little more to offer a scholar of my caliber, and it is long past time that I set down roots."

"I see," Sparrow said. "If these are your people, isn't there anything –"

"I already know what you are going to ask, Sparrow, but there nothing I can do at this time."

Dismayed, Sparrow opened her mouth to remind him that she'd saved him once, long ago, but Garth cut her off again. "I have no status among my people. I have been away for so long I am seen almost as an outsider myself. Only the fact that my daughter is first-wife to the chieftain grants me the right to stay and live here. I have yet to reach such a status that I could demand your release."

"_First_ wife?" Sparrow sputtered, momentarily sidetracked, but she quickly forced herself back on topic. "What about a negotiation? Surely there is something I could do that would convince the chieftain to set us free? In fact, we came here in pursuit of something of great value. Perhaps if I –"

Garth abruptly shook his head, but ask he was about to speak, his daughter stepped forward.

"Father, we must continue onward. The chieftain is most impatient to assess the prisoner."

Garth nodded, and said to Sparrow. "I'm sorry, Sparrow. Perhaps an opportunity will present itself at a later time, but for now, you must go to the chieftain, and it is my personal recommendation that you do not attempt to defy him, and that you hold your tongue unless spoken to. When the time comes, we will speak again."

And once again, the blindfold was placed over her eyes. Sparrow tried to be angry that Garth was so reluctant to offer her any assistance, but really, she was too thrown by the shock of running into him out here, much less learning that this was his home, and the woman with the Will-lines running beneath her skin was Garth's _daughter_. Not only his daughter, but the wife of the chieftain. _First_ wife. She was reminded unpleasantly of Prince Rajeev and his 'other wives', and wondered if having multiple wives was a common custom in this strange land.

When the blindfold was next removed, Sparrow found herself inside a spacious wooden hut, standing beside Reaver, but almost immediately they were forced to kneel. Sparrow did not struggle, but of course the Pirate would no more kneel before another than cut off his own nose. Despite this, he was quickly forced to his knees, grumbling to himself, but Sparrow paid no mind. Instead she was focused solely on the massive, menacing figure perched on an ornate – _throne_ was the most appropriate word – as though he were the king of this forest. And for all intent's and purposes, he was as good as. Several enormous warriors rivaling Hammer in size and breadth surrounded him on either side, but they were nothing compared to their chieftain. The man looked impossibly strong, as though he could bare-handedly wrestle a rock troll into submission without breaking so much as a sweat, followed immediately by a pack of balvarines and perhaps a swarm of bandits, and all in time for breakfast. Sparrow tried not to let herself be intimidated, but even if she possessed the same strength as Hammer, the odds of her winning any type of physical altercation again this beast-like man would be dismally low. As she was, he could easily take her head in his hands and rip it clean off her shoulders...

"Mene öz getirmek." He gestured one massive hand, and immediately Sparrow was dragged to her feet once more and shoved forward. She stumbled several steps, but caught herself. Her escorts remained in their place, so she walked the two-dozen or so feet between herself and the chieftain. She stopped as far away as she dared, keeping her back straight and her head held high despite her growing sense of foreboding. When she came to a halt, the chieftain rose from his throne, and only then did Sparrow see that Garth's daughter, Vaera, knelt on a colorful, ornate, cushion at his side. Her bearing bespoke pride and regal dignity, but Sparrow could also sense a certain guarded look in her eyes. Whatever this was about, it obviously did not please her, and vaguely Sparrow wondered if she could put that her advantage.

The chieftain, Vaera had referred to him as Desik, stood a head-and-a-half taller than Sparrow, and was probably four times as wide as she was, and she wondered at the terror Vaera might have felt upon becoming the wife of such a man. He circled around her many times; she could read nothing in the dull, thuggish expression in his eyes, but none the less, the way he looked at her sent a shiver up her spine.

"Siz haradan var?" he barked suddenly,

"The _Önder_ asks where you are from," Vaera translated, her tone soft, but as stern as her husband's.

"Albion," Sparrow said shortly, determined not to cower before them.

Vaera translated her answer. Another few moments of silence, then another question. "Sizin nece yasiniz var?"

"And your age?" Vaera asked.

Sparrow scowled. "I don't see what that has to do with –"

"Kavab!"

Sparrow jumped in spite of determination to show now fear, and didn't need a translation to know what he'd said. "I've lived for 39 summers."

An abrupt silence followed after Vaera translated her answer, and the chieftain watched her with cold speculation in his eyes. Sparrow longed to look to Reaver, but she didn't dare turn her back on this beast. After several long minutes, he barked several rumbling words towards his wife, who in turn conveyed them to Sparrow.

"You will undergo three trials to determine if you are indeed the descendent of William the Black, and will be tested against each of the heroic virtues, beginning with Strength."

Sparrow frowned. "And if I refuse to undergo the trials?"

"You _will_ be tried. Failure means death. It is your decision if you will survive."

At a command from the chieftain, she was dragged away to the center of the room, the rope binding her wrists was cut, and a crude sword was thrust into her hand. She was about to ask just what they expected of her, but before she could get the words out, a member of the chieftains on guard separated himself from the group. His face was ablaze with the lust for battle, and without any word of warning he brought his enormous sword above his head and brought it down above her. Her battle-honed reflexes took immediate control, and she parried the blow and dodged out of the way, spinning some ten feet away from him. Smiling maliciously, her opponent lunged after her, but again she parried and dodged, staying easily out of reach of his blade.

"Mübarize!" the chieftain barked.

"Our chief demands that you fight," Vaera said.

"No," Sparrow said. "I did not come here to fight. You have no reason to treat myself or my companion in this manner. All we desire is a chance to negotiate."

"You trespassed on our lands, and did not leave when you had the chance. You are therefore subject to our laws."

"I refuse," Sparrow said with as much finality as she could muster.

The moment her words were conveyed to the chieftain, he barked a command toward one of the guards that had escorted herself and Reaver from the prison. His order was immediately obeyed, and two burly warriors held the Pirate in place while a third held a sword to his throat, pressing dangerously into his skin. Her eyes locked with Reaver's, and to her surprise, he appeared neither intimidated nor enraged. He was perfectly composed, watching her without expression. Did he not care what happened to him? Or did he trust that she would allow nothing to happen that would harm him? It didn't matter. Sparrow already knew what she would do. The effect of seeing him so close to death was more potent than if the sword had been held to her own throat; her heart began to pound painfully in her chest, and she cried out for them to stop.

"All right, all right," she said through gritted teeth. "Just don't hurt him. Please."

The sword moved only an inch away from his skin, indicating that he would not be released entirely, and she forced her attention to her opponent. Already he was bearing down on her, and she barely had time to bring her sword up to block the crushing blow. The impact forced her back and pain reverberated down her arm, leaving it numb for several seconds. As she fought to keep her footing, she caught sight of him already bringing his sword up again, but before he could get it over his head, she utilized her Skill and rolled out of his reach, coming up to his left. For a brief second, he glanced around stupidly, as though wondering where she'd gone, but Sparrow did not wait for him to regain his momentum. Without hesitation, she brought his own sword up in a sweeping motion, hoping to make contact with his legs, but he seemed to be expecting just that. His sword blocked hers, and Sparrow was forced to retreat.

Their dance continued on like this for several minutes, their swords clashing so hard that sparks flew through the air while Sparrow dodged out of his reach and tried to find a weak point in his style. Though he used mostly slow, powerful attacks, he also guarded well against her counters, always keeping her on the move. At no point did he begin to tire; indeed, the longer the fight drew on, the more power he seemed to muster, until one particular blow nearly forced her to her knees. Desperate to regroup, she rolled across the floor and took refuge behind a thick wooden pillar, keeping it between them and using it to land several swift attacks, trying to take him off guard, but before long he grew frustrated with her antics and, in one brutal swing, cleaved the pillar cleanly in two. The enormous warrior charged straight for her, bringing his sword up; she cleanly parried it, but realized too late her mistake; rather than trying to repeat the same swinging motion, he allowed his sword to arc back, but almost immediately brought it round again, and before she could react, the pummel of his sword connected painfully with her stomach, knocking the wind from her and bringing her to her knees.

Sparrow gasped piteously, hunched over and desperately trying to drag air into her lungs. Her insides felt like they were on fire, but her opponent did not let up. She could feel his meaty fingers grasping the collar of her shirt. With one hand, he dragged her up, then held her in the air, her feet dangling more than a foot from the ground. His face was barely a foot from hers, but even through the haze of pain, she could see his cruel smile. It was the last thing she saw before she felt herself flying weightlessly through the air. Completely disoriented, she did nothing to brace herself, and in the blink of an eye she collided with the hard wood of a wall with such force that the wood gave under the impact. When Sparrow was finally able to gather her senses, she realized she was outside; the sunshine blazed down from above, and she could smell the moist soil beneath her. She didn't want to get up, the pain was too great; it throbbed through every bone and muscle in her body, making it even harder to breath. She didn't want to move, but she knew she had to. If she wanted to live, if she wanted Reaver to live, she had to move. Steeling herself against the pain, she pushed herself up again, first onto her knees, then agonizingly to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily at first, and tasted blood in her mouth. Sickened, she spit it out into the dirt, then turned about. Her opponent was making his way leisurely through the hole she'd made in the wall, and already the chieftain and his guards had swarmed around them, followed quickly by her escorts, who dragged Reaver with them.

Sparrow paid no heed to any of them, not the chieftain, not his wife, not the villagers who had stopped in their tracks to observe the spectacle. Instead she focused solely on the warrior swaggering toward her, clearly so certain of victory that he was in no hurry whatsoever to engage her in combat again. Before she knew what she was doing, before she made any plan to act, Sparrow gripped her sword tightly in both hands, set her feet in the dirt, and charged straight at him. She briefly registered the look of utter shock as she brought her sword down over her head, and he just barely blocked before being sliced open. This time it was he who was forced back, but Sparrow did not let up. Already she moving in for the next blow, then another, and another, until she was forcing him back step by step. She could no longer feel the pain of her injuries. All she could feel the sword in her hands, and the power coursing through her muscles. Her body practically hummed with vitality, and coupled with her Skill and agility, her sword was a gleaming blur slicing through the air; the only evidence of each blow was the telltale shower of golden sparks bathing both of them in a warm glow. And then, finally, Sparrow saw an opening. Her opponent desperately tried to make a swing of his own, bringing his sword down over his head, and Sparrow instinctively brought hers up in a sweeping motion to meet it. The two blades met with an earsplitting clash, and in an instant her opponent's sword shattered, not in two, but into hundreds of razor sharp fragments that flew through the air like falling stars, and before anyone knew what had happened, an ear-splitting cry filled the air.

Completing her swing, Sparrow spun away, only realizing then that blood was running down the tip of her blade. She looked immediately to her opponent, who was retreating blindly, his massive hands covering his face. Blood was oozing down his chin, and only when he tried to wipe some of it away did she see what had happened: her blade had sliced upward across his right eye, leaving a long, ugly gash in its place. Sparrow swallowed hard, but put him from her mind. The man was beaten, and she faced the chieftain, her sword still raised, ready to defend herself.

"Is that enough?" she bit out viciously. "Or do you demand further proof?"

"Throw down your weapon," his wife answered, her tone no longer stern and cold, but oddly soft and soothing. "You have passed the first trial."

Nodding curtly, Sparrow threw down her weapon. The blade skidded across the ground, coming to a halt at the chieftain's feet. He stood there, wordlessly watching her, but Sparrow could detect the merest hint of satisfaction in his eyes. Sneering at him, she turned to return to Reaver's side, but before she could take two steps, her legs gave out, and the world around her went black before the ground came up to meet her.

* * *

Something cool, something infinitely soothing, was flowing around her. Sparrow did not open her eyes, did not think to find out what the source of this wonderful feeling was, but freely basked in it, afraid that too soon it would disappear and leave her alone in the darkness. She didn't know how long she lay there, reveling in the soothing relief, but as time passed, her thought slowly began to form into images... She'd fought something... someone... a monster? No, a man. A man so strong she'd never known the like of him. Had she lost? Was this Heaven, perhaps? Had Avo called her home? The sensation surrounding her could only be his Light.

No. There were still small twinges of pain coursing through her, though they faded more and more the longer she lay there. But if she'd won, where was she now? Curiously, she pried her eyes open. A woman was sitting over her, someone familiar... Vaera. Garth's daughter. Garth was here... in the forest. His home... His village... His chief... The chief who had demanded that she fight to the death... to prove herself... But why?

Sparrow looked down at herself. She was laying on her back. Vaera's hands hovered over her, and from them issued a blue light. Will. It spiraled around and through her, and it was that which was soothing her pain and, as far as she could tell, healing her injuries. She had never known Will to be used for this purpose, but she was realizing there was more to Heroes than she'd ever guess.

"You're awake," Vaera said, her voice revealing the barest hint of concern. She removed her hands, stopping the flow of energy. "I was worried. You were bleeding from the inside. Your desire for life is strong."

"Yeah, I suppose it is," Sparrow said, grimacing as she pushed herself into a sitting position. A glance around her revealed she was in an unfamiliar hut. "Where am I?"

"My father's home. He offered it for your recovery. He... he does not approve of the chieftain's decision."

"Do you?" Sparrow asked bluntly, looking the woman straight in the eyes.

She did not answer for a full minute, then said, "It is not my place to question my husband's decision. He is our chief and has always looked after our tribe."

"That doesn't mean you have to agree with everything he does," Sparrow pointed out.

"You do not always agree with your husband?"

"Of course no – wait, you mean Reaver?" Sparrow asked. "We're not married. He's my... my associate. We're on a quest together. And no, I don't always agree with him. Quite the opposite."

"I see," Vaera said, getting to her feet now. "I suppose that is fortunate."

"What is?" Sparrow asked, confused by this response.

"That he has no claim over you. My husband planned to have him killed once your trials were complete and he served no further purpose, but if the man is not your husband, he might be inclined to release him."

"What do you mean?" Sparrow asked, alarmed. "What is the reason for these trials? What does the chieftain want from me?"

Vaera did not seem inclined to answer, but Sparrow was surprised to see a softness in her eyes, quite contrary to the stern expression she'd worn when Sparrow had first seen her.

"Please, I just want to know what's coming. If I'll have no chance to negotiate and no chance to escape, I would at least like to be prepared." When she still did not answer, Sparrow quietly asked, "Does he intend to kill me?"

"No, he does not," Vaera denied.

"Does he intend to take back the powers my supposed ancestor stole from your people?"

Vaera shook her head, looking uncomfortable. "Such a thing is beyond our skills."

"Then what –"

"Vaera."

A voice from the door made them both look up. Garth stood just inside the door. "It's all right, Vaera. You may go. I will watch over the prisoner."

Seeming grateful, Vaera quickly left, and Sparrow scowled at Garth's ill timing. She was certain she could have gotten a few answers from Vaera, but the chance was lost now. As soon as his daughter was gone, Garth came and took the seat she had vacated. He crossed his fingers beneath his chin and stared deep into Sparrow's eyes, his stare so penetrating that Sparrow found herself looking away.

"Well, it certainly has been a long time," he finally said. "We finally have a chance to catch up, but it seems you have questions you would like answered first."

"Yes," Sparrow said. "I want to know what's going on. What's going to happen to me? Why am I a prisoner here?"

"Those are very good questions," Garth said. "I suppose I should start at the beginning, or what I know of it." The Hero of Will readjusted himself in his seat, and then continued. "Several days ago our people received warning the intruders had entered the forest."

"How?" Sparrow interrupted.

"The animals," Garth said. "Our people have an affinity for everything that lives in this forest. You felt it too, did you not? A certain understanding that _something_ was happening. There was something about way the animals chattered amongst themselves." It was true, but Garth did not wait for her answer. "A group of scouts was dispatched to observe and report back. I was present when they returned. They spoke of a pale-faced woman with hair like flames, and a man; both hunted animals with the Skill equal to any of our warriors. The chieftain is a suspicious man, and he sent out a party to attack and drive the intruders away from the forest. When they returned, they had brought the man with them, and they raved that the woman had conjured an inferno of flames in the palms of her hands."

"The battle in the flower field," Sparrow said, remembering.

"Yes," Garth said. "It has been millennia since a Hero possessing more than one virtue was scene in our forest. The last was William Black, who is said to have stolen his powers from our tribe. The tribe attempted to capture the woman, but when the man pushed her into the raging river, she was lost to them. Believing the two shared a connection, they took him instead, believing the female would go to any lengths to follow her mate. You can imagine my shock when I recognized the man as Reaver. For a minute, I thought they couldn't possibly have the right person. I never dreamed he was capable of self-sacrifice of any description."

"So I walked headlong into a trap," Sparrow said. "I guess I knew it all along."

"Then why did you come?" Garth asked, curious now.

Sparrow shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. "I had to. I wasn't going to leave him behind. Not when he'd saved my life."

Garth went silent for several moments, watching her thoughtfully. "I see much has changed since we parted ways."

Sparrow gave him a wry smile. "And only in the past few months," she said. "So, your chieftain got what he wanted. Here I am. Now what does he want with me?"

Garth drew in a slow breath, looking apprehensive about answering her question. "There's no easy way to answer. It's only during the past hour that I even found out the answer for myself –"

"Out with it, Garth," Sparrow said. "You need not coddle me like a child."

Garth sighed. "If it turns out you are indeed the descendent of William the Black, the chieftain will take you as his wife." Sparrow opened her mouth to offer a heated expletive, but Garth cut her off. "From what I've discovered in my travels, Heroes originated from our tribe. A long, long time ago, before The Court enslaved Albion, before William the Black, several of our people set off into the world beyond. They created new lives, found husbands and wives in the world outside, and passed their gifts on to their children, who eventually forgot their origins. When William the Black came along, a Hero capable of powerful magic the likes of which the world had never seen, he drove off The Court. Afterwards, during his travels, he came across this village. I don't know if he used his Will to take the powers of our people as the legends claim, but I do know that no child of our clan has been born capable of more than one Heroic virtue. If the chieftain replaces his first wife with you and bears children by you, his progeny will be imbued with the same power you carry. It will enhance his lineage and ensure their permanence as the leaders of this tribe."

"Wait a minute... go back... He wants to replace me with his first wife?" she asked incredulously. "You mean your daughter? And you're all right with this? She's all right with it?"

"Our feelings on the matter are of little consequence," Garth said.

"I don't accept that," Sparrow spat out. "This is your daughter you're talking about. I don't know much of anything about your tribe, but her status as the chieftain's first wife appears to be something she takes great pride in. I could see it in the way she sat at his side."

"You're right," Garth said. "She went through much as a child, being the daughter of a man who had abandoned her mother and the tribe. She worked hard to become the chieftain's wife and maintain her place above all his other women."

"Then why is she just going to let it all slip away from her?" Sparrow asked angrily. "Why are you? You could help me escape, Garth. You owe me that. You owe her that."

For the first time in her memory, Garth looked unsettled. Even as a prisoner in the Spire, Garth had always maintained a veneer of utter composure. "If I help you, and we fail, it will make things even worse for Vaera. As much as she wishes you gone, she will not openly defy her husband. Even if you replace her, she will still be the chieftain's wife, and that will still demand respect from the tribe. If she falls out of favor because of my actions or her own, she will be ostracized. I cannot take that risk."

"No one needs to know you helped," Sparrow said. "All you need do is remove these shackles from me." She held up her wrists, displaying the silver bangles that suppressed her Will. "Remove them, and I can escape with Reaver under my own power."

Garth looked hesitant, and for a moment, Sparrow believed he would do as she asked, but another voice interrupted them.

"Father, the warriors have come to escort her to her second trial."

Garth cleared his throat and turned to his daughter. "Of course, Vaera. She is ready. If you would take her out to them, I would appreciate some solitude for the time being."

Vaera nodded and looked at Sparrow expectantly. Reluctantly, Sparrow got to her feet and allowed Vaera to tie her hands and blindfold her once more, then lead her blindly toward her next great obstacle.


	34. Author's Note

Dear Readers,

Okay, I know it's been a while since I've updated... a long while.

But I am NOT giving up on this story. Not ever. It may be a while, but I won't give it up.

The fact of the matter is, I am just so wiped out. I started cosmetology school at the end of May, and it takes so much of my time and energy. I'm so brain fried most of the time. I try to write, but I can barely think, much less get into the minds of my characters. I'm just so _tired_. Just please be patient with me, okay? I'm working on the next chapter, bit by tiny bit. It will get done. This story will get done. I've taken breaks and then continued on before. This will be no different.

Lilith

P.S.: Oh, and if you have any comments or questions, please don't send them in a review. Then you can't review the chapter when I do finally post it. Just send me a private message, okay?


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